#they are not into it at all they are probably repulsed by the very idea of it

[totheidiot]

i think we can put all the versions of death note and its adaptations into a spectrum based on how much light and L want to kill each other and on one side of the spectrum, it's the death note japanese musical and on the very other side, it's the death note tv drama.

[depresseddepot]

trying to determine which parts of my relationship with sex are asexuality, which are trauma, and which are autism is like trying to have a conversation with three people talking loudly and all at once

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 | feyd-rautha

(gif credits to @pascow)

— summary: an arranged marriage with feyd-rautha in the name of reconciling your houses was something you were not expecting, neither was the soft and light way he seemed to behave towards you and only you. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 3k —warnings: arranged marriage, feyd being gentle and calm because the reader is the love of his life (as it was written), probably ooc!feyd (sorry but i just love to see the most savage and feral men fall on their knees for their s/o)

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

Your arranged marriage to Feyd-Rautha had been the reason for House Atreides and Harkonnen to strengthen their alliance, ensuring that neither would stab each other in the back, which was most expected from the Baron. Your Houses had been wavering on a faint thread that separated you from a war and this marriage arrangement had pacted a reconciliation. It had been your parents' idea and obeying your parents was the most important thing for you, right after protecting your family and indeed that was what you were doing, guarding your family.

Your twin brother did not like the idea, he was not very fond of Feyd-Rautha and his House, moreover, he found him rather... repulsive. For Feyd was a savage, a ruthless and bloodthirsty man.

However, he had to admit that, next to him, you would be basically untouchable, after all, it was like having a guard dog, the most possessive and protective dog, a dog that was ready to kill and ravage for you if necessary.

“He's scary.” Paul's voice echoed inside your head as together you walked along the vast hallways of the Harkonnen palace, at the end of it, Feyd-Rautha stood, engaged in a conversation with your parents, forever as stiff and somber as he had been since you had first met him.

“Just look at him, you'll have to wake up next to him for the rest of your life.” Your brother insisted, throwing you a knowing and concerned look. “We can fix this without you having to marry that man, sister. There must be something—”

“Enough.” you interrupted him, finally dragging your eyes from your betrothed to your anxious brother pacing beside you, you made an effort to offer him a reassuring, soft smile, grateful that he was always so caring and concerned about you and your well-being. “There's nothing else we can do. You know about my visions and what they foresee. Our House will not endure if I do not accept this offer.”

“We will do whatever it takes to survive for now.” You added, holding Paul's gaze, noting the sadness and pity behind his dark eyes, and like the good sister you were, you sighed softly, leaning closer to him to bring him some kind of reassurance. “Our turn will come to make our move and win, brother.”

“Whatever it takes.” He echoed, nodding his head, fingers brushing your clasped hand around his forearm, as you were accustomed to do when you walked side by side.

“The marriage will take place two weeks from now.” The Duke's voice gave out the news once you were all inside the assembly room, with the Baron at the head of the table, of course, looking uncharacteristically approving and pleased to hear the announcement.

The massive man showed his approval with a hint of a phantom, twisted smile, plump fingers taping the edge of the black table in front of him. “We will have the princess as a guest in our home for a week and then the na-Baron will visit her home for the last week, prior to her coming to live here.”

He planned the whole thing and there was absolutely no one in the room who had the idiotic courage to be against his command, so, it was settled.

Once you said goodbye to your family and gave a tight and emotional hug to your brother, you were left alone in the dark and gigantic planet of the Harkonnen family, feeling like an outsider, like a small prey surrounded by bloodthirsty predators. Although, the place possessed an indescribable and incomparable beauty, the sun was black, and the light that irradiated was whitish, giving it a beautiful contrast with all the black buildings rising majestically. But the place was rather... depressing, quiet and somewhat eerie, it was nothing like your home.

You soon felt out of place, and everyone who looked at you could see it too. It was as if you had some kind of golden aura, glowing among all the darkness and gloom of the place.

Feyd-Rautha watched you attentively, analyzing every expression and emotion you let be shown across your face, catching the look your eyes possessed, that special little gleam that flashed in your orbs as you admired Giedi Prime as if it were one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen in your life, his home.

“Do you like it here, my lady?” His husky, raspy voice managed to snap you out of your trance, and your heart skipped a beat once you trailed your gaze from the horizon beneath the balcony to him, meeting his deep, dark gaze. He always seemed to look at you with those eyes, captivated, as if you were some form of strange spectacle.

And indeed you were, you stood in perfect contrast to the planet, your eyes were bright, lively, your aura was vivacious and hopeful. And because of that, he liked to look at you, study your face, your body language, every little reaction you had in response to something. You were fascinating.

Whenever you entered any room, his deep blue eyes were pulled to you like a magnet, drawn to orbit around you like his planet circling the dark sun.

Feyd noticed out of the corner of his eye how your hands clasped lightly around the balcony fence in front of you, skin contrasting against the blackness of the material. 

You nodded your head very slowly, twisting your body just enough to be able to look him directly in the face, big eyes looking up at him, not with fear, but with expectation. “I do.”

Even your voice was the opposite of his, keeping that soft and delicate tone, as elegant as you.

He seemed satisfied with your positive response, and so, he dared to lean against the balcony fence right next to you, but careful not to cause you to feel too uncomfortable or intruded upon. His eyes never left you for a second and he was quite pleased that you were bold enough to hold his powerful and intimidating gaze.

“Good, it will soon become your home too.” Feyd answered you, in a tone that oscillated between amusement and fascination, you didn't quite know how to decipher the expression on his face either, naturally.

He was very complicated to read, even if you tried extra hard, the many tutoring and lessons with Lady Jessica didn't seem to do much use, with him. Perhaps because he made you feel unnerved, he made your soul tremble like no one could, stepping beyond your walls and standing where none of your senses seemed to work. Where the eye could not see.

“Are you mocking me?” Still, you had the courage to ask him that bold question, one eyebrow rising on your forehead and your head twisting slightly, defiant face and all.

Your bravery made him laugh slightly this time, a noise that was heard almost unnaturally, with a small crooked smile on his lips that looked all too unusual and strange on him. For not even his strongest and most powerful enemies had had the courage to stand in front of him and challenge him like you were doing right now. You were a fierce girl. And he liked that.

“I wouldn't be likely to mock you, my lady.” Feyd-Rautha replied calmly, his tone of voice the exact same, as if you were a spectacle. Your eyes lowered to his hand, which snaked slowly to the edge of the balcony fence, fingers stroking the smooth surface. “I'm just stating the obvious. You'll be living here with me soon. It will be our home and you will reign with me when it's my turn.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly at his response, not yet quite convinced that he would behave so calm and composed with you, when not more than two days ago you had seen him slicing men to pieces in the arena. “You are not bothered by me invading your space?”

You asked that question because you knew how... eccentric men usually behaved, you could see it in basically every man with any power you had ever met, in the so many meetings with the Duke back home. You could see how they treated their wives, how they looked at them and how they talked to them, as if they were dealing with a servant. You feared this marriage was like that too.

Even your parents' marriage was broken, since Duke Leto kept close to his heart another woman who was not Lady Jessica, he did not love her as he loved that unknown woman. You had grown up seeing an empty and cold marriage, merely to fulfill a duty.

You understood that your marriage would also have that basis, and therefore, you knew that duty was the death of love. But for some silly, innocent reason, you wanted to think there might be love here. As the naive, young girl that you were.

Feyd-Rautha shrugged, not taking much interest in the matter of the question, “You'll be my wife, my space is your space.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw that his answer pleased you. You could begin to understand that to him the whole arranged marriage thing wasn't as important as it was to you, or maybe it was, but it didn't seem to bother him or disagree.

“Does this marriage bother you?” It was his turn to ask, staring down at you, noticing how beautifully your skin reflected the pale natural light of the black sun. He could see how frustrated you were now, to be there, with him. “Does it bother you to be my wife?”

You sighed heavily, peeling your eyes from Feyd-Rautha and returning them to the beauty of the landscape below, pondering the questions. His dark eyes followed your every movement as your body turned forward again, hands gripping the balcony fence as if your life depended on it.

“Do you care much for my opinion of you?” You decided to answer him with another question and that seemed to annoy him for his frown deepened and his fingers halted on the fence, devoting himself to glaring at you with his azure eyes, mirroring the pallid light of the gloomy sun.

“Woman, I will marry you and live by your side for the rest of my life, of course your opinion is important.” He took a couple of steps closer to you as he spoke, hand closer and closer to yours, managing to make you even more nervous. “Don't speak nonsense, it doesn't suit you. You're a smart girl.”

Seeing the expression on your face, he leaned even closer and out of the corner of your eye you watched as his hand rose to your face, resting on your chin and turning it ever so gently for you to look at him, but your eyes lowered, fleeing from his.

It seemed astonishing to him that you didn't even flinch away when you sensed the approach of his hand to your face, as if it wasn't the same hand that had slaughtered so many and slit so many necks by the same motion.

“Don't take your eyes off me.” He demanded in a low, raspy tone of voice, you could feel his breath brush against your face. “Look at me.”

When he whispered your name in that delicate, nearly pleading tone, you finally summoned the courage to look at him, allowing him to cradle your chin between his fingers and allowing him to be so close to you that you felt suffocated by the warmth of his body against yours.

“You fear me?”

He asked in that tone of voice, whispering, silently asking you to have mercy on him, not to fear him as everyone usually feared him, not to see him as the monster everyone saw, but as your husband, your protector and your lover.

He saw how your eyes watered slightly as fear peered into your usual stoic, cold face, and Feyd-Rautha was used to beholding that face, was used to fear, because it was always the last look of his enemies.

“I'm afraid. Of leaving home, of living on an unknown planet, of marrying someone I don't know.” Then you shook your head softly, looking up at him through your long eyelashes. “But I am not afraid of you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“You're very bold... and emotional.” He whispered in a disapproving but gentle voice, fingers tracing barely a caress along your lower lip before he reached up and dried the couple of tears that had managed to escape from your pretty eyes. At the closeness, you could begin to see through the mask he always carried, hiding his emotions. “You can't let yourself look like this in front of your enemies, it will make you appear weak.”

“I can't let myself look like this in front of my future husband?” his dark eyes lowered to your lips as you modulated the question, pupils dilating slightly. You swallowed as you saw desire and lust darken his orbs even more when you referred to him as your husband. You sniffed, feeling suddenly embarrassed by your outburst of emotions. “I'm s—sorry. You shouldn't see me like this, my lord.”

“Don't apologize.” He again reprimanded you in that passive-aggressive tone of his, like a hiss of a snake, shaking his head a little. Even after he wiped away your little tears, his hands remained in the same place, cupping your face, each of his thumbs resting on your flushed cheekbones.His fingertips were surprisingly gentle against your skin, sending shivers all over your body beneath their path. “You can be like this only with me, you understand? You can trust me, I want you to trust me.” His fingers took a lock of your hair and pulled it away from your face, running it carefully behind your ear. “But I really don't like to see you cry, my wife-to-be.”

After barely a second of silence with his azure eyes again flicking down to your parted lips, he spoke again, muttering, his raspy voice indicating that perhaps it hurt his throat to talk like that. “Pretty girls like you should cry out of pleasure only.”

He studied your face once more, not missing the way you blushed at his open flirtation and suggestive words, how you bit your lower lip, pupils expanding in thick blackness. You weren't used to so much attention, let alone men saying those kinds of words to you, it was evident. You were so innocent that it provoked a rare feeling of tenderness in Feyd-Rautha.

Perhaps it would be the closest thing to an act of consolation you would get from him and it was likely the only time in his life he had ever done that.

Promptly, you managed to make him smile again. “You Atreides are so strange and delicate... but then again, you will soon be Harkonnen, the prettiest na-Baroness, my pretty little wife.”

From his voice, his careful choice of words and the way he was looking at you, you expected him to kiss you right there —perhaps that was what you wanted, amidst all the tumult of emotions that shook your little heart, beating in rumbling noises inside your chest, pumping fiery blood through your veins.

But after a few seconds, he pulled his hands away from your face and backed away from you, taking a few steps back and offering you a look that you managed to perceive as soft rather than harsh. You knew that he was controlling himself well in maintaining a good demeanor, perhaps because his uncle had ordered him to do so; to do his best to make a good impression and not bring shame to the family. And also because he wanted you to have a good image of him, he was a prideful man, he was used to boast of his virtues and his power, and he was above all, protective of his own person and his glory.

He made a short gesture with his head pointing to the open balcony door, his hands clasping together behind his back pragmatically, as if he were presenting himself in front of a superior. “Now come, pretty girl, I'll show you the palace myself. You're future home.”

You walked towards him, a little smile curving your lips, the first smile on your face during the entire conversation, and he admired it in all it's glory.

“You don't have to be all stiff when you're with me, Feyd.” You eyed his posture with light eyes as you passed him and made your way inside the guest room with graceful steps, him following close behind.

He wasn't very fond of being addressed by name directly, of having his name used so freely, but the way you pronounced his name made him so utterly proud to be called that, he suddenly was wishing you would just call him that, in that tone of voice, tongue savoring his name as if it were the most delightful thing to say.

You turned to look at him for a few seconds, your tone of voice becoming reassuring, something he wasn't quite used to, yet he heard and savored it as if it were the sweetest thing in the world.

“If you can see me cry, then I can see you relaxed. It is only fair, no?”

Feyd-Rautha received your words positively, causing him to deepen his breathing into a snorting chuckle, eyes sparkling with amusement now behind your back.

“I'll try for you.” His response made you smile once more.

[clitorphosis]

DOLL PARTS

Death Island Leon S. Kennedy x reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON SEX, SMUT, female reader, age gap, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, Stockholm syndrome, dumbification ig, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, finger sucking, bruises, implied physical violence, internal conflict, teasing, guilt, implied obsessive behavior(Leon) i think, dirty talk, pet names, degradation.

Summary: There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is close to lose after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. For him, to kidnap you is to save that part. Cause life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Of course you don't understand.

notes: this is a mess I fear, but I had a blast writing this tho so idc LOL!!! Also thanks @writingwisterias for letting me bother you with my rambling and my indecisiveness with kidnapper leon（╹◡╹）I don’t condone anything here in real life. :3 uhm, reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of feedback are really appreciated!

tags: @melanchol1cs

Clocks are ticking, not only in real time but in his mind - a disturbing reminder of how at his age Leon wasn’t even able to settle down. Tick - tock. Of course, men can always find a young woman, and two or three times of unprotected sex would be enough to impregnate one. Still, Leon doesn’t believe that applies to him - alcohol is not only a boner killer but also of fertility. Neither does he crave babies, he can be considered a dad to Sherry, also they would only show how time flies. She is enough of a reminder, no need for more.

He found you on the dating app - Sherry suggested he try, as a joke, probably not expecting him to follow the advice.

For him, you looked like a doll. Almost a godsend. Pretty, young, and easy to manhandle. Almost drooled at the prospect of having your legs wrapped around his waist. He should feel guilty or disgusted at the idea to fuck you… at the images of the material of your panties clinging to your hips, wrinkling up with every movement before his fingers would curl under it to tug them down. Right? No-no, he is only 38 years old - at his age men are already bald, Leon is having an easy time here. He has a chance, always had.

While he was unsure what to do, was a simple ‘hello, how are you’ enough for you? Or would it be too simple? Or repulsive? Why is he even worried about that, you probably matched him on accident.

You texted him first, something he didn’t expect from a young woman - even women of his age don’t text him first, they are dry and uninterested. Like sex with them.

“hiii ^^” This forces a smile out of him. Again, three dots appear. “You didn’t swipe me as a mistake, right?:3”

He hesitates, his thumb floats on the digital keyboard for a moment. No, it wasn’t a mistake, still, he needs to gratify his ego. “If it was, would it get you sad?”

“yep, actually, very big big sad!”

That was it. Easy and quick to get closer to you. He expected more obstacles, maybe times changed indeed or you are into older guys. All he needed to do was to open his wallet, be nice enough, and show how a ‘real man’ should treat a woman.

Leon knows a lot about you. He knows too much information - where you live, your college, and where you work. Not in a creep-like way, no-no. You were the one asking him to drive you there. Maybe your youth is the only problem to blame on - you were a chatting box endlessly and easily sharing anything with him, maybe things you should not have to. Somewhat, this only attached him to you.

There are always some subtle hints and hidden alarms, no one usually gives a shit about. Also, understandable, to ask anyone who knows him - hard to find someone with a bad opinion of Leon.

“He is okay”

“A hero. Not everyone is capable of saving the president’s daughter” or a simple shrug.

Outside his work, Leon is… just a guy most of the time. Yes, of course, not the luckiest one with the ladies, but it is unlikely someone would describe him as the type to kidnap a girl. No one understands how middle age crisis is going to be hard to handle, he is pushing 40, surely enough it is already waiting for him at the edge of the doorstep - and Leon had enough of bullshit in his life, a pretty and young woman is the panacea for this. The godsend pill to erase his problems.

And finally.

Finally, the tremendous loneliness will disappear, leaving it behind him like a bad dream. The feeling that everybody in the world is doing something without Leon. He can’t stand this ever-consuming loneliness to spread anymore, today IS the day.

He can let himself be selfish just once. Right?

To reach his goal, there is a small step though, a sacrifice to make. That’s why he set a date, in a good and expensive restaurant too.

And today is the day. This shouldn’t be forgotten. The biggest day. The most important one. No, doesn’t do the justice. The absolutely, positively biggest day, may be the right choice of words for Leon.

On the spot already, waiting for you. This time he isn’t late. That bad habit since 1998, but for once he didn’t struggle with his punctuality - too petulant about what will happen, checking clocks every second. Almost like a goddamn teenager, shifting the weight from one foot to the other on the spot. Nothing can go wrong, he tries to calm himself, there are so many ways to cover your disappearance. Perks of the job.

He didn’t notice how you arrived here too until your perfume brought him to senses. Your face is soft, your eyelashes flutter and you are so untainted. Your younger frame reminds him of himself your age. 21 years old, 1998. When he was at your age he had already witnessed horrors, you don’t realize they still exist. Leon shakes his head, that memory never brings anything good, but today his mood is not ruined and the memory has only strengthened the urge to keep you close.

Leon needs you, untouched by horrors and he knows much better how life can be terrifying.

“You ready?” He flashes a smile, his mood is more upturned than it has ever been - you can’t help yourself, a grin spread across your face too. It is infectious.

“Mmm, I am” you nod, curling your hand around his elbow, to keep yourself closer to him. And he is ready too, god, he has never been so fucking ready in his life.

“Not late this time,” His heart clenches at your words, and he looks into your eyes with a cocked eyebrow - awaiting whatever you came up with. “not like you at all, should I expect a surprise?”

“Maybe, maybe not” He brushes off with a shrug, a smile is still on his lips as you get closer to the car, but he can feel your excitement.

“A ring maybe?” You giggle. He opens the car door for you to get in, you don’t want to let go of his arm.

“A ring? Already?” He says and shakes his head. No, not a ring, but a different surprise. He kisses your lips in a chaste way, hoping you will not try to harp on this topic. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart, wait for it”

…

After dinner was different. A drop of temperatures and an easy flow of the air, dull lights of the street lamp illuminating your figures, inhaling the air in your lungs for the last time. The street is empty; no drivers, no smell of cigarettes, just you and him. And… silence fell upon you both.

Until his hand presses a tissue around your nose. It is suffocating; your nails dig into the arm, trying to worm out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, easy there” His voice brushes against your ear, soothing and intimate. The one he used when he fucked you. “Don’t make it worse for yourself...”

The warm body pressed against your back and kept you close until your body became pliant in Leon’s embrace on the silent night.

Tied up and unconscious. He is considerate enough to not let you experience the narrow space of the car trunk. With heaviness in his chest and like a scaredy cat, driving to his apartment - guilt shifts to euphoria in no time. You wanted this, no? Why would you stay with him after all? It doesn’t matter anymore. He was successful, finally. It worked. Today is his luckiest day, it should be highlighted on the calendar.

While this is the uncomfortable memory of your last date.

…

Every time you are alone, there are little things to do - you could have done some projects for college, maybe talk to friends and go to clubs. To catch a pretty guy, to have sex in the bathroom of the said club. Or fall in love with a guy of your age. It fills you with love and excitement like your hypothetical phone is going to ring as if you aren’t forced to be in Leon’s apartment.

Leon says you are a doll. Not those plastic bimbo dolls you see on social media with plastic acrylics that are longer than their eyelashes. Those reeks of cheapness by trying to be expensive, Leon has explained the difference to you. You are not Barbie or Bratz, those are ones you’d probably played with in your childhood, for Leon, you are another kind of a doll.

He is the one controlling you, making those dumb rules you’ve never memorized and you aren’t really going to. His grip around you is tight and your skin blooms with darker colors after playing with you.

Pretty, that word lives rent-free in his mind, almost becoming the most used of his. Favorite word. Your presence urges him to dress you up. A glance into the closet, most of it contains dresses and other items he has bought you. To take care of you, Leon almost emptied his wallet entirely for you a lot after getting you. It excites him. Admiring outfits he put you in and the same night, he is the one raising the fabric of your dress - two fingers or a dick inside you are enough to make you busy with moans and squirm.

He loves it, oh, he adores it. And your pussy is the best. It calms him, centers him - being someone’s center of the world is delightful, the only one time of the day in which he doesn’t feel insane. You make him feel sane, on the days when your mouth doesn’t run free.

From your point of view, he looks like he is trying to play house with you. In a wrong way. Playing house didn’t include tears or forced silence. Or forced participation. It should be fun, usually, it had been, at least in your childhood. Leon acts like this is normal like he didn’t just kidnap you during your date and force you to be here. He is still sweet, still spending his money on you (even though he doesn’t care about your preferences now), there is food on the table too. During the dinner, the silence is filled with stories from his work - names of people you don’t know. They don’t know you either, you aren’t the most famous captive girl on the planet after all. This is the bare minimum.

What’s more to ask for? Freedom, you are full of his shit actually, you would have preferred ignorance to be bliss cause his farce makes you feel insane. More unanswered questions flood your mind, they stick to your mind like a leech on the skin after a fresh swim on the summer day. You need to wash away this feeling, the only way is to question him. Right. First, you played nicely, still pitying him and holding him dear to your heart.

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” And a confused expression was his answer. He doesn’t even process what you said, just moves on. This didn’t work. Nothing fucking works here.

Now you prefer to poke those facts at him - like a harsh whiplash, a cold water against his face to bring him back to reality. You shouldn’t live like this alone.

Under your flesh there is a hidden hole filled with turbulent waters, almost tearing you apart - suffocating you with confusion. You wish hatred was the only reason to keep you sane, but the deep affection towards him still emerges like a bad dream. His tired eyes with loving and sweet nothing words come from his mouth, peppering your body and face with kisses when everything is right. The memories of nights with him flash in your mind: he is nice enough not to break you, while your body reacts in natural ways. You get wet, you feel pleasure, and his fingers know just the right spot to make your back arch.

This tears you apart, it confuses you too. Maybe there is something you don’t catch on, something missing. Conditioning? You aren’t a mindless idiot, nor a Pavlovian dog, but your body reacts like one. Maybe that’s a lie to reassure yourself. Still, you can’t drive yourself close to orgasm when he is not home. Your fingers aren’t enough anymore, almost with tears trying to get yourself off. To feel like your own person without him.

But something. Is. Always. Missing. You are incomplete.

…

It is already late, really late. Leon is a busy man, at least his job seems to be really important - so important, that he has always refused to tell you, avoiding the topic like the plague and switching to that honeyed tone, talking to you like a dumb puppy. Maybe it is some government shit job, something dirty - suitable for him.

But when he is late, many hopeful scenarios emerge, the most common is his car crushing to death. Good girls get gifts, their wishes get accomplished also, and they end up in heaven too - Leon told you that and to him, you are a good girl. Corny shit. Could he be right though? What if your wish was heard finally? Then remained trouble in your life would be to get out.

And the same dreams are crushed every time the sound of the car engine goes off, the jiggle of keys reaches your ears. You know it too well, you can recognize these little details and they fill you with dread. The sound of his steps, they are so different from others. The sound of his car doesn’t sound like those outside his house. Maybe you are insane, but everything he does is so recognizable it makes you sick.

And Leon is back.

His face is the only one you see, even in your dreams. There is nothing changeable in it. Light stubble, but still him. Shaved and it is still him. Different cologne. And still him. Leon sickens you, this little play often pushes your buttons, urging you to break this act and get yourself into trouble. Maybe the remains of hope are to blame, maybe Leon would change his mind and stop this.

He plops down on the couch, drawing your attention to him - impossible to ignore, if you did, you wouldn’t stop hearing the end of his complaints. His black shirt strains across his muscular body, the fabric is not shy to outline his big chest. Black suits him, but Leon looks good in everything forcing more dread stir in your chest.

“Finally, home” Leon sighs, his hand creeping up to pull you into his lap, acting unbothered. Your legs straddle his hips, facing him. Don’t forget, you are captive. And this is the part of the routine. He is going to watch those old movies from his childhood, or work silently(maybe he will nudge his cock inside you, to keep himself warm) and then he will fuck you. A tearful routine.

“…yay..!” You try to smile, forcing it to please him. Ignoring conflicting feelings in your body, anticipation to feel his dick mixed with dread. A yearning for change. Leon kisses your forehead.

His blue eyes feel heavy on your face, making you feel so little. “I missed you” Leon cooed with a honeyed tone, pulling you even closer. That light smell of beer coming from him forces your skin to crawl. His fingers pinch your cheek, tugging it briefly too. “My doll felt lonely today, right? Without me?”

Again, that mocking sweetness. The one you’d use for puppies. You nod with a hum “Mmm”

“I had a bad bad day today, those reports dried my eyes, god” he groans, his head tipped back, rubbing his eyes as to emphasize his words. But still gripping your waist. You don’t have the mood to be nice to him, his smile and relaxed expression stir dread and hate towards him. And yourself.

“You look like you had a bad day and not me” Leon comments, raising an eyebrow before his thumb tugs on the corner of your lips - smile. You had a bad day forever, your day can’t be compared to whatever he had today. His voice is sweet, but condescending, like he knows what is better for you. Leon doesn’t know shit.

“I don’t think you have reasons to be upset, huh? Your life is easy, baby” He snaps his fingers. Like an order. “pretty smile for me, no one likes grumpy girls”

“You are fucking sick… you know that?” Words spill out quickly and mindlessly, ignoring his distorted expression - you just want him to be in pain. Like you are. There is a hint of fear in your voice, subconsciously aware of what is going to happen after your words. “… you KIDNAPPED ME and you want me to play along with this act?…” A bittersweet pause. Adrenaline rushes through your blood, like after a good shot of vodka. “That’s fucking smart… asshole”

A hard swallow, trying to ignore the growing lump in your throat. Anxiety. This time, your voice is much quieter, you feel so small. Involuntarily shrinking away to shield yourself from what is coming. “I hate you”

There is an uncomfortable silence and his face is not blurry anymore - it is the only thing you can see right now. There is no slap, which is worse, silence is much scarier than a reaction cause you need to know what is going on in his head. You should have stayed silent instead, maybe Leon was right - you can’t stop but back talk and try to get yourself into trouble. You got yourself into this, not him.

Maybe an apology… wouldn’t it be late? Would it save? God, you MESSED this up. There is no way back.

His eyebrows furrowed, looking down at you with a clear discontent painting on his face, his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks - uncomfortably keeping you still. This time being pretty and batting your eyelashes like a dumb doll is not going to save you.

“You are so spoiled. No one likes ungrateful bitches like you” Leon shakes his head, not giving a space to you to talk back again. “I buy you pretty things, I spend my time and money on you… and you repay me like that?”

He tilts your head, the grip is bruising, almost. Leon doesn’t give you flowers, but bruises look like them quite enough. His words hit you like a slap, making you feel like there is something tremendously wrong with you, not with him.

“Is it so hard to play nice and stay pretty for me?” He adds with a raised eyebrow. His thumb caresses your lower lip, playing and tugging it down, before pushing the digit past your soft and tender lips.

“And quiet.” He tsked, feeling warm saliva clinging to his thumb as it pressed down onto your tongue. Lucky for Leon, one of his wishes is accomplished - you can’t really talk, only muffled words, while your mouth is occupied with his digit. He keeps the grip on your jaw, before replacing it with two fingers. Pointer and middle finger. You are so pretty when you keep your mouth shut or around his fingers. Or dick. The latter is much preferable.

Your mouth is always warm, inviting, and wet. Hard to hide how such act affects you, your breathing catches in your chest, as his fingers keep rubbing the front of your tongue - messy and slick, not wetter than your cunt right now. Your mouth can not be compared to your pussy though, it has much more pros than disadvantages, the only con is the lack of wetness sometimes. Not something unfixable at the end of the day, a spit or lube (if he is in a good mood) can fix anything.

Your eyes are closed, feeling his other hand keeping your head pointed up where he can see you. To be honest, you don’t really know if you are just trying to illude yourself and hide from the truth - both options are useless, they bring you back to him. Every time his fingers are in your mouth, keeping you quiet and forcing you to suck on them - your pussy gets wet quickly like it is connected to your throat. His fingers delve deeper, moving in and out slowly. You can’t help yourself. Your clit throbs uncomfortably, urging you to do something about this, and your inner walls flutter around nothing - your mind reminds you of how good his dick feels. You probably look so pitiful to him, your eyes reflect well what your body begs for while drooling around his fingers.

Your thighs try to snap close, to rub them together and get that sweet-sweet stimulation, but they end up straddling his hips tighter - feeling the outline of his hard cock press against the damp and thin material of your underwear. It isn’t a big obstacle right now, the burning heat can be felt easily. A choked whine escapes from your mouth, realizing that his pants are still on him.

“Uh-huh, you want my attention?” Leon asks, not trying to be subtle with his tone, laced with mocking sweetness. His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop, leaving a trail of droll connecting you both. It is so empty without him filling your senses. His eyebrows curl up, glaring down on you like at kicked puppy. He mocks you, another squirming heat crawls in your cunt. Embarrassingly wet, dripping, and staining his jeans with your slick. God, you ARE getting off when he is being patronizing with you. “You ruined my day, baby. Do you really think you deserve anything right now?”

Your mind is screaming at you to do something, you need that relief. His cock. Anything that will fill the emptiness inside you with pleasure. You shiver when his fingers brush across the hem of your underwear, clearly amused by how wet you are. They push aside the fabric, already wet by your saliva - slowly stroking your drenching folds. So warm and puffy, even the light touch of his fingers on your clit makes your body jolt like you are in pain.

“Leon…” Your voice sounds cloying, it goes straight to his hard dick, as you look under your eyelashes at his face - it makes you feel dumb. Any sentences or words are thrown away into the bin under his glare, he doesn’t even try hard to make you feel like that, there is no need cause you are dumb. And you ache for his cock, ignoring alarms in your head. You are just a dumb, aching doll.

And his. He told you that.

“What?” Leon pressed, already withdrew his fingers from your cunt, wanting to see you more desperate. Your hips try to grind against his hard cock, to get a light stimulation. You stay silent, words aren’t enough to formulate what swirls in your mind. Somewhat, his presence and words are always tied to that deep feeling of owing him something. What? Not clear, but it is still here, even if his cock empties your mind.

You are still his after the dramatics you pulled, right?

You swallow hard, the sight of his unmoving hand on the belt makes your cunt painfully ache, ignoring your mind screaming at you to hit him. You don’t deserve this, it whispers. The guilty part of your brain won a long time ago, it overwhelms that soothing reminder - canceling it completely - you need to hurry up him. You are at fault, it whispers. “…Please…” Forgive me, I need you.

You gasp as in rasp motion he changes your position, shoving you and you end up with your back pressed down flatly on the soft material of the couch, while Leon hovers over you. And he kisses your forehead, with the same tenderness and affection he has given you before - like a couple, married couple on honeymoon. Your mind misses the bullseye with this conclusion, but whatever helps, right? The spot burns hot, as a reminder that you have to please him.

Clink-clink! It snaps you out of your thoughts. The sound of his belt makes your skin crawl, and more slick pools in between your thighs like at the unvoiced command. You try to buck your hips up, only to end up restrained by his hand - it grips tightly your flesh, in a bruising hold, and the signs will bloom into another purplish collection in the morning. His hand pins your hips down, - silently denying the control over your pleasure. Couldn’t be even wetter at this point.

It isn’t really visible, but his breathless sigh signaled you that his hand is, probably, wrapped around his cock. You squirm, to prop yourself to look down and maybe get comfier - again, he pushes you down with a head shake.

Your legs shake when his cock presses up in between your drenching folds, the slick clings to the skin, and his cock head nudges against your aching clit. And this hits so good too, his hard cock slides across your cunt. You can’t help but let your hips buck up back, again - to get your own control on the pleasure. Tsk. Your attempt gets easily interrupted again, as his hand pushes your hips down. His cock gets harder after every slow and agonizing rut, the wet sounds of your slick pressing and smearing his cock is like music to his ears. No wonder it is so easy to get lost, thank god your attempts to worm out of his grip snap him out of that pleasure.

You are so impatient. But for Leon, sex is so much simpler, cause he is a simple man. With age many things change, they get uncomplicated. Of course, Leon likes good stuff; tasty good, keeping you pretty, watching how your tits bounce with every thrust and feeling your flesh under his hands, how you react to him. But the sex isn’t the lovemaking or a way to satisfy you, for him, it would be useless to keep you here then. There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is so close to lose touch with after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. Life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Every time he sees you so confused, depending on him - he can’t lie, it makes his cock jolt. He wants to see every little expression on your face, - desperation, affection, confusion, misery, everything - to etch the sight into his memory.

“Baby, you don’t know what’s good for you..” Leon says, there is no answer from you and he doesn’t really need one. His eyes are focused on his cock nudging your hole before slowly pressing in - now watching your spasming and drenching hole swallows his cock. And you gasp.

Without fingers, without any preparation, but wet as hell, you still feel tight as sin. It is easier to get through though. The velvet softness of your fluttering cunt is addicting as your walls clench around him in a vice grip with every inch pushed inside.

It is dizzying how your mind empties together with your body, any remains of conflict regarding this situation is gone. Focusing on how his cock stretches your walls, leaving you breathless and trembling at the slow-filling sensation in your cunt. Your hands creep to rest on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

His cock pushes through, until its tip presses against your cervix - he is deep inside, his hips nestled right against your ass - and your pussy is so overwhelmingly full, for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

“That’s okay” Leon cooed again. His hand brushes across the skin of your collarbone, caressing it. Burns and you are hot, to the point his touch felt cold. You shiver, his hand is always pleasant to feel, but at the same, the feeling of it is accompanied by something else, you can’t ever catch it. It is brief but always gives you awareness.

Your chest rises up and down unsteadily, looking probably pathetic right now as his hips start moving. Already overwhelmed without a way out.

“Awww, you are just a dumb thing, not knowing anything better” Leon drawls with an amused smirk.

The pace is set, rhythmically rocking against you, using your cunt like a toy. You want to roll your own hips back, to do something but today isn’t your day. You already forgot about your earlier lash-out, as the only sounds reaching your ears are flesh-hitting ones mixed with your moans. His lips are parted on a soft stream of pants.

“N-no..” This attempt of protest slips out easily from your mouth, without giving too much thought into what may happen. Your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. His hand creeps higher, to rest on your neck in a loose grip, a silent warning perhaps. Pretty faces don’t need to do anything other than being pretty, but tonight you let your mouth slip out too often.

The hand on your hip pushes it down again, the grip hurts actually. Feels like there are already bruises forming and he is clearly not pleased with you. He isn’t at all, your comments ruin his fun. They distract him from your tight pussy, how hot it is, and engulf him, begging him to thrust ruthlessly and fill you.

Unspoken rule, you should be silent and let him use your cunt without other noises than incoherent moans.

“Oh, no-no” Leon mocks you, a sharp, unexpected thrust, his cock head grinds against your cervix. To punctuate his words his grip on your throat tightens. Or you are imagining this? Another thrust, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hips start dragging his cock out of you, then he pushes it back deep inside. “I know what’s better for you.”

Every deep thrust into your spasming cunt, your thighs shake, and muscles in your body flex every time your hips connect. And his hand squeezes your throat, you can clearly feel the outlines of his fingers on the skin of your throat. God, is the grip getting tighter? Is he trying to cut the air? This fills your body with panic; it writhes even more, ignoring the painful grip on your hip and becoming more aware of the one that’s getting tighter around your neck.

Yeah, he is angry at you.

“Doll, you brought this… on yourself” Leon whispers breathlessly, watching your expression twist with a mix of pleasure and fear. Your hands travel from his shoulders to his wrist, nails dig into its flesh. “don’t resist”

His hand angles your hip better, losing the rhythm of the pace as his cock pounds into you in quick and deep thrusts. It hits your g-spot too, but the lack of air is the biggest of your worries right now. Your cunt flutters, getting tighter with the less air incoming, and more tingly wave of sensation rides over your body. The tips of your fingers feel weird, and your entire body starts to drown in numbness. It is weirdly pleasant but at the same time scary. Deep down you like it, not realizing it.

“Come on,” Leon grunts, his grip on your neck doesn’t lessen, and you try to focus on something else other than the possibility of passing out. Your walls clench around his dick tighter, and your mouth opens uselessly as a dumb fish trying to speak, but the only sound coming out is a muffled one.

“If you are so smart… fuck…” He moans, you feel so good, your walls clenched tight around his dragging cock and your body is so easily letting him use your pussy. He can get drunk on it. “…use your big mouth”

His grip tightens, and another choked moan tries to drawl out of your mouth. Nothing comes out other than a quiet, pathetic mewl. It feels like you are going to die.

“Use your filthy and smart mouth” He taunts again, the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. His hips thrust into you in rough and hard movements. It feels like just his presence is overfilling you. Maybe the lack of oxygen is to blame. “or you can only use it for my dick.. huh? Like a whore, not a doll”

“A…m, S-s” I am sorry. You try your best, but it is hard to do multitasking when your head is so lightheaded and his dick inside you feels so good. Your body feels numb like it doesn’t belong to you anymore, writhing and squirming every time his cockhead hit your cervix - a pang of tingling mixture, something so new and pleasurable, but at the same time foreign, with the hint of pain. But it is a delicious kind of hurt, toe-curling one.

You are going to pass out, trying to swallow down the saliva pooling in your mouth and your nails dig into the skin of his bicep - begging, unawarely your eyes sprinkle with tears. “S-..sor-r—” This is your best attempt.

Orgasm has always been different with him, it is warm, still keeping your turmoil. This time it is crushing, but feels shorter than it was actually. It hits your body unexpectedly, filling to the brim with the feeling of his cock spouting cum inside you, while every patch of your skin is numb and burning hot.

Confusing your mind more when his hand slipped away, so close to pass out and the quick rush of air fills your lungs almost choking you, overwhelming the pleasure of your own orgasm. You are so sensitive, at the brink of tears - not having any strength to keep them in, they easily well in your eyes, blurring even more the vision before rolling down. It doesn’t hit like it should cause you are too focused on the fading numbness and shaking while inhaling the air - unreasonably afraid(to Leon) that he is going to take it away again. Breathing feels much better than sex, right now at least.

He pulls out his dick, and his cum slowly oozes out of your hole, while you are still recovering. Not hiding where his gaze is directed. It is hypnotizing, urging him to shove it back into you with his fingers and keep his cum inside you for a little bit longer. You snap him out of this trance with your sobbing and incoherent words.

“I am so—sorry!” You sob, tugging onto the fabric of his black shirt to pull him closer to you. Seeking comfort in him, you don’t have any other options. He can’t deny this to you, his arm wraps around your shoulders. And even if you had other choices, still you would crawl back to Leon. “I was mistaken… I am so-so sorry. It was a mistake!”

God, you shake like a leaf right now. He huffs as if your words were the most obvious thing. Like the sky is blue or two plus two is four. It is hard to push you away, the trembling and teared-up mess. Leon enjoys that.

“There you are, baby. I got it” Leon sighs, the crease in between his eyebrows deepens. His hand brushes away your hair from your face, to get a better glance of your state. Mistake. Everything is a mistake here - your presence, getting off only of him, texting him first, and letting him take you on dates. Leon can’t help, but chuckle. “Of course. Indeed a mistake, doll”

[celtrist]

This was a planned thing I had around the time I had this little rant (appreciate everyone who's bothered reading that thank you!)

Seeing as we have three canonically Asexual characters, I thought each of them having a different romantic orientation (and varying asexuality on the scale) would be fun and neat to show the variations to the orientations! But I was really stumped on Mammon since I was pretty set on Alastor and Octavia, but Mammon not being any form of aromantic didn't feel right, not terribly ooc, just definitely felt a bit more like "he's the leftovers" sort of thing when divvying up the romantic orientations. But lo and behold, the new episode of Helluva came out and helped solved that little quandrie. So here are my thoughts below on each!

Alastor (Loveless Aromantic) If you've seen my rant, you probably have a good idea why I labeled him as a "loveless aromantic" (meaning in this sense I'm talking about, he just wouldn't have any form of romantic affections or go into something like a QPR or the like). And I do genuinely think he would be! But I know there's A LOT of bias for Alastor NOT being aromantic (or at least open to some sort of relationship), and I will admit I might've been a bit biased here too! I've just seen a lot of love for only specific parts of the aro spectrum that "allows" Alastor to get with someone, and I wanted to give some love to the aro spectrum that gets little to no appreciation (plus I do just genuinely think he'd be this). If you don't agree, all is fair ദ്ദി（• ˕ •マ.ᐟ The point is, I realize I'm probably in the minority here. Plus, it's all a guessing game more or less until something is officially stated, which probably will never happen for any of these three.

Anyway, like I said, I just don't see Alastor really getting as close to anyone even as a QPR. At the VERY LEAST, not in a QPR that has a lot of romantic parts to it (kissing on the lips, cuddling, etc.). My man wouldn't have any interest in marriage or anything romantic, he's very happy on his own and probably gossips about OTHER people's love lives. Then again, he seemed pretty close to cracking when he heard Charlie ranting about her own love life... With that said, I do think he DOES like the company of others, he's VERY social after all. But actually, getting intimate with someone? Mmm, that doesn't feel right for him to me. A kiss on the cheek or PERHAPS a cuddle here and there at most, but nothing like bathing with someone or kissing with tongue. He's also a man of the roaring twenties, so you KNOW how he thinks about intimacies that might have no romantic/sexual connotations by themselves (like bathing with someone) are romantic on their own just because being that close to someone was seen that way in his time. Plus again, I just don't think he'd be interested in that stuff as is (potentially he could be both touch-starved and touch-aversed. And oh boy, wouldn't that be a conundrum!) On one hand, I like and can see Alastor being sex-repulsed, on the other I can also see him just feeling nothing towards it. Considering Angel's "advances" in both the first episode and the pilot, he does have a bit of a strong reaction towards sex, but nothing crazy either. I can see him being lukewarm to the subject (so he could read a book or read a script out loud with sex in it), but he could be repulsed when it actually INVOLVES HIM. I can definitely see him somewhat annoyed with the subject for how everywhere it is though.

Octavia (QPR Aromantic) It's a little hard to pinpoint, but I can personally see Octavia getting into a close QPR sooner than Alastor, but maaayybe only be a hair. Octavia could possibly get into a platonic relationship with someone that would have remnants of seeming romantic. I do think she's probably the most sex-repulsed of the three, if in part because of her father's inclinations that he doesn't seem to hide even when she's around. Honestly, I feel like we still haven't seen enough of her to get a good grasp on this aspect of her character in if she would be interested in getting as close as to a QPR with someone. But I'd certainly like to think so, because damn does our girl need it. Her falling into some sort of relationship would probably be hard seeing as how her parents' relationship was so awful. So she could be hesitant about doing something like that.

Mammon He was the big toughy! And while his advances on Leviathan might have been meant in a more platonic way or just for show to go against Ozzy's and Bee's romantic relations, I'm going with what's there! So Mammon seems like he could be straight or bi/pan. But I don't have a hard grasp on which so I'm tossing that in the air. I don't think he'd be sex-repulsed just because of how "sex makes money". Like, there's no question that sex appeal is a big part of business even if something isn't even that sexual. So while I think he's not largely interested in doing anything sexual, I can see him being okay or even lukewarm to the subject, maybe just not getting the appeal entirely. Maaaayybe he's sex-favorable? Of the three I would imagine he would be the most likely to be sex-favorable, but I dunno.

I like the idea of Octavia being the only one aware as to what her orientations are. Alastor is... well he's Alastor, and Mammon doesn't seem like he'd be too interested in the details of things. Just that "there's straight, gay, and the between area".

[adieutristana]

asexual reader headcanons; arcane women x fem!reader

this one is completely self-indulgent because i want to validate myself. if there happens to be a demand for this, enjoy

disclaimer that i’m aware asexuality is a spectrum. i lean way toward the sex-repulsed side of things, so that’s how i will write reader.

summary; arcane women dating asexual!reader

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn, lest

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, reader is asexual (duh), not rly nsfw but sex is talked about? if that makes sense, maybe (probably) ooc, VERY brief mentions of sa, kinda short, again this is self-indulgent

men dni.

jinx;

✧.* not even really a conversation that’s had. you tell her that you’re asexual, she looks at you for a moment, shrugs, and goes back to whatever she’s doing.

✧.* honestly does not care.

✧.* this scared you at first- her lack of response made you think she might be upset, or as if she wanted to pretend she didn’t hear you. when you brought it up with her, jinx seemed to be a bit confused as to why it was such a big deal to you.

✧.* “so what? i can still bring you around zaun, and hold you, and kiss you in the hideout. that stuff doesn’t matter.”

✧.* you’ll have to discuss boundaries with her of course. i personally believe she has a lot of stamina, but not the highest drive, so it doesn’t really matter to her. you’re open to the idea, just not right now? great. you don’t think you can ever see yourself having sex? that’s cool too.

✧.* what matters to jinx is that you’re around. you’re there. she’s yours, and you’re hers. she wants that connection, the humanity of it all.

✧.* still super touchy. of course she won’t do anything that crosses a line, but jinx is gonna be sat in your lap and peppering kisses all over your face while rambling away about some new invention of hers any chance she gets.

✧.* “sooo… what’s my pretty girl up to? nothing? oh, i guess i’ll find a spot then…”

✧.* before sprawling herself out on your lap, giggling up at you. she thinks she’s hilarious.

✧.* i think she’d still make a lot of dirty jokes, though. jinx doesn’t necessarily mean anything by them, she’s just a girl who likes to laugh and have a fun time. she’ll stop if you ask her to.

✧.* if she does do something out of line, she’s immediately apologizing profusely and asking what she can do to make it right. probably one of the downsides of dating jinx… you’ll have to assure her endlessly that it’s okay, she made a mistake, you’re not upset. jinx just hates the thought of you being mad at her, she can’t bear even the thought of losing you.

✧.* jinx can be pretty romantic when she wants to be- in her own way, of course. she’s always been less than conventional. sex is one way of expressing love- but she’s got a bunch more, don’t worry.

✧.* post-it notes on your things with stick figure drawings of the two of you, surprise kisses in the middle of you talking, impromptu firework shows just for you…

vi;

✧.* i don’t think she’d really care much either. she is sexual, but she doesn’t need it to survive i don’t think?

✧.* if anything, she was just a bit confused when you told her about your sexuality. she didn’t realize that that was an option until you told her about your preferences

✧.* but it’s you! and vi cares about you, so she’ll do whatever she can to make sure that you’re happy. she probably will ask if you’d be open to the possibility someday, but she won’t pressure you if you tell her ‘no’ or ‘not anytime soon.’

✧.* “as long as i get to be with you, cupcake.”

✧.* vi cannot stand the idea of ever doing anything out of line, though, so she’ll make sure to outline absolutely everything with you. as i’ve said in other posts, i think vi would be a pretty good communicator. getting things out of the way before they become a problem. gods forbid she tried to make a move on you before you had told her.

✧.* still suuuuch a tease, just in a more ‘pg’ way. she’ll withhold kisses from you just to see you pout, she’ll brush your back from behind you and chuckle when you jump in surprise.

✧.* you’re just adorable to vi, don’t mind her.

✧.* “what? i can’t think it’s funny? i think you need to lighten up a little, babe.”

✧.* vi will definitely ask you questions as well, though it’s not anything malicious or her trying to prod. the first place her mind goes is it being a trauma response- but regardless of your answer, she’ll support it. she just wants to understand you and where you’re coming from better, and if it’s something as simple as you just not enjoying the idea of sex, then so be it!

✧.* cannot reiterate enough how important communication is. vi loves you, she wants to understand you, she wants to know exactly what to do and what not to do.

mel;

✧.* i don't think she'd mind much, honestly. mel is very well-read, probably already knows a good deal about human sexuality and the wide spectrum it is. i don't think she'd ever necessarily considered that someone could just... not experience sexual attraction, but she doesn't really think twice about it when you tell her.

✧.* of course she has questions, but they're only so that she can understand you better. she can't get all of her knowledge on a topic like this from research, of course.

✧.* one of the most important things to mel is connection. sex is one way to connect, but not the only, and she’ll happily take the other options if it’s what you need.

✧.* good communication, physical touch, taking you out for sweet dinners or letting you look after her after something particularly dangerous… all things that mel loves. feeling close to you, being there with you, sharing warm moments with you. she loves spoiling you, it’s quickly become one of her favorite things to do.

✧.* “anything you want to do, dearest,” she’d say. “just name it, and it’s yours. no matter how far it is, or how outlandish, you’ll be happy.”

✧.* if you decide that you are open to a sexual relationship, mel will cover every single base with you before trying anything. of course that’s what should be done, but she genuinely wants to make sure everything is to your comfort and you’re happy. and you’re going it because you want to, not just to please her

✧.* mel is just such a sweet and gentle lover all around. as long as she has that level of connection, the companionship, the trust, she’s happy. as long as she gets to kiss you and hold you when she needs to, as long as she gets to hear that you love her, mel is happy.

sevika;

✧.* you’re gonna have to explain to sevika what asexuality is and what it means to you. i’m so sorry

✧.* it’s not that she won’t understand, it’s just that she’s not too familiar with the terminology and well… it’s not very common

✧.* once you do explain it to her, though, there’s not much of a reaction. i don’t think she’d ever considered the possibility of someone just not feeling sexual attraction or not feeling the need for sex. but once she thinks about it, she supposes it makes sense, everyone is different.

✧.* sevika is sexual. she canonically goes to zaun’s brothel. but i don’t think she’d be bothered having an asexual partner, it’s nice to just have somebody around, somebody to care for and love, even if they’re not up to that side of a relationship. she appreciates your company, your reassurance, your love regardless of what form it comes in.

✧.* that, and she has a hand if she gets desperate.

✧.* “doesn’t matter, dove. can still share a bed and touch you, yeah…? just in other ways.”

✧.* i’ve said it several times before and i’ll say it again, sevika is fiercely loyal. something as insignificant as this will not affect that! if anything she’s thankful that you’re honest with her, you’re upfront, and that you trust her to love you the way you need to be loved

✧.* incredibly touchy regardless, just keeps her hands off of certain areas unless you tell her it’s okay to put them there. she loves being by your side, loves that contact, loves pressing soft kisses to your neck or wrapping her arms around you from behind as she whispers sweet words to you.

caitlyn;

✧.* you’re gonna have to explain it to her… she’s heard of asexuality before, but i don’t think she’d really understand right off the bat. you’ll probably have to explain that it’s not the same as celibacy, just the fact that you don’t feel sexual attraction to begin with

✧.* once it clicks there’s not really much conversation after that! of course cait will ask about your boundaries, what asexuality means to you specifically, what you do and don’t want to do, but she catches on pretty quickly. you just need to give her a second for everything to make sense in her head

✧.* caitlyn is pretty romantic i’d think, and although she’s sexual, asexuality is far from a dealbreaker for her. cait is more than willing to express her love in other ways- (non sexual) physical touch, little words of reassurance, her protection, the way she does you favors without you even having to ask…

✧.* caitlyn makes sure to use her words especially. she loves telling you that she loves you, she loves complimenting you, calling you sweet pet names, making you feel special by speaking to you. it makes her so incredibly happy

✧.* “you’re beautiful, darling, do you know that? you drive me mad constantly, i swear…”

✧.* caitlyn is also pretty big on communication and i think she’d be the type to make sure any little touch is okay. she gets a bit anxious, and you might have to reassure her that it’s perfectly fine for her to grab your waist or hips. she just worries, she doesn’t want to overstep.

✧.* she’s down for anything that you want to do, and don’t want to do. it’s all for your comfort, and as long as you’re hers- her love, her girlfriend, she’s happy.

lest;

✧.* doesn’t really have a grand reaction to you telling her. i’d say she’s sexual and experienced, but this also makes her aware of the various ways sexuality works. so what if you don’t experience sexual attraction, or the same desires many others do?

✧.* of course there are the multiple conversations, mostly about boundaries and exactly what you do and don’t want to do. lest is fine with anything, but she’s a lover at heart. all she wants is to take care of you, and make sure that you’re comfortable with whatever is going on.

✧.* still incredibly touchy. stealing kisses in between clients if you visit her at work, snuggling up to you, purring against you as you embrace her… lest genuinely just loves to be close to you

✧.* she’s tired constantly. lest is a busy woman, so being able to come home to you after a long day of dealing, negotiating, stroking clients’ egos… it’s a treat. something that becomes motivation for her. count on lest to crawl up next to you on the couch when she finally arrives home, sighing as you card your fingers through her silky hair.

✧.* “i swear, they get more and more difficult every day…” she’d lament.

✧.* IF you decide that you’re up for anything, lest will be checking in on you the entire time during to make sure you’re okay. probably the first few times. she knows you’re alright, you’re safe, but the last thing she wants is to make her asexual partner uncomfortable or hurt her.

✧.* but even if you’re not, it doesn��t make any difference to lest.

✧.* she’s got a beautiful woman who loves her, who cares for her. who she can bring around piltover and spoil, share peaceful moments with… it’s all she could ask for.

[txttletale]

hey not trying to be a shithead but genuinely curious; and not saying it isnt, but what makes honest hearts like super racist? because, okay its been a while but i dont remember it being *that* bad?

am i missing something? (probably)

well, essentially, the whole dlc hinges its plot on its idea of 'tribal' society vs. 'civilized' society. this is like... a distinction with origins in 19th century scientific racism used to argue that indigenous peoples were 'primitive' and 'backwards', a lesser form of life compared to the more developed 'civilized' people. and this is a distinction that is everywhere in all the fallout games, including new vegas (i think it's super fucking racist that the white gloves practice of cannibalism is constantly narratively linked to their 'tribal origins' and described in the terms of a regression or degeneration)--but honest hearts is about it and so it's really inescapable.

joshua sawyer can say whatever he likes about multi-ethnic diverse groups or whatever but the tribes in honest hearts are very clearly inspired by racist stereotypes about native americans--they are naive, gullible morons (follows-chalk can't understand the concept of a casino) at worst and noble savages with (textually) biblical innocence at best. their names, their art, their societies--all just a white guy's idea of "vaguely native american" without any research or care.

and imo worst of all (and this is something im aware the devs have properly acknowledged) they have absolutely no agency--your role in the dlc is to be a "civilized" outsider who tells them which of two white "civilized" mormons to listen to. none of the 'tribals' are able to make their own decisions or lead themselves--they need a mormon missionary to tell them what to do! there is no way to resolve the dlc without picking which white mormon missionary they should listen to other than just murdering everyone indiscriminately.

and, like--i am aware that honest hearts thinks it is gesturing towards a critique of these ideas. you can criticize the paternalism daniel shows towards the sorrows, and the dlc clearly intended it to be criticized--but that criticism is weak and hollow when the only way to follow up on it is to put a different white mormon in charge. it is the most archetypal white saviour narrative possible--and yes, i also know daniel was 'supposed to be asian', but that doesn't change anything because he is in fact, as the "civilized" missionary preaching paternalistically to the "primitive tribals", fundamentally white-coded

so i mean yea it's racist because it relies on racist stereotypes about native americans, mandates that a white person come and take charge of these poor stupid 'tribes'--but even if you changed all that, it's fundamentally about an idea of 'civilization vs. tribal society' that it accepts as a true and meaningful distinction as its core premise, and that is just a straight up racist premise.

(and the reason i keep bringing up that both daniel and josh are mormons is that mormons have a long and storied history of brutal violence and colonialism against indigenous peoples, from their original violent settlement of utah to their 'indian placement program' to their deeply racist scripture, which makes their portrayal as benevolent white saviours particularly galling and repulsive)

[aro-culture-is]

What is a QPR and why are aros attracted to it /gen, I’m new to all of this and I want to learn.

QPR = QueerPlatonic Relationship.

This is a term that explicitly has a vague definition, because it is meant to encompass many things. That said, the definition I think is most useful is "a relationship which queers the culturally normative platonic relationship". Yes, this is broad, yes, it can apply to all sorts of folks and situations that probably don't use the term, and yes, it's not very explanatory by itself.

But. The point of this term is to be open to describing a lot of things for those who find it useful. Originating in a-spec communities, the idea of a QPR is typically a long-term, committed relationship that is not romantic, may or may not be sexual, and may be platonic, but not in a way that typical friendships are seen as.

For example: an aromantic person and an aro-spec friend of theirs are close. They intend to move in together, live together, and for all intents and purposes, make major decisions together which are typically viewed as things married couples do (like buying a house, moving for jobs, adopting pets). They do not feel romantic attraction to each other, but they wouldn't do this with just any friend of theirs. They have a close bond, and it's not really understood by a lot of folks around them, who may, depending on the genders of the individuals involved, be assumed to be (romantically) together and inept at romance, be together but poorly closeted, be poor poor bachelors who will never get a girl that way... all sorts of stuff, and a lot of the assumptions place a "that's not entirely platonic" bent on it. Thus: queer.

There's been debate about QPRs in all sorts of ways over the years, some in good faith, some not, some productive in exploring our assumptions, and some which deeply hurt and ostracized other members of our community. Some of these remnants of debates are popular to run into - some may refer to QPRs as halfway between romantic and platonic, some may insist that there should be a separate term for sexual or non-sexual QPRs (broadly, consensus was that this was an unacceptable division, redefining a term used to mean both from the beginning, usually a discussion in poor faith by either a sex-negative and/or sex-repulsed individual), and some may attack the way that this term doesn't require all individuals involved to be queer. Truthfully, my advice as someone who's identified as aromantic for a little over a decade?

Always leave space for people to have their terms, but never, ever enforce those terms on others. If a term is useful to the individual(s) involved, fantastic! If it fits them to a T, but they don't like it? Don't use it for them! Frankly, view that as similar to misgendering - they've now explicitly said they don't want to be called that. Just... be nice.

Lastly, for reasons I don't quite recall, people in QPRs used to be called zucchinis as a cutesy thing. The relationship itself was a QPR, and the people were each other's zucchini. :)

[hexhomos]

I really hate that so many are against Viktor having the kids because his in utero imagery, embryo face splitting, etc... it's just fitting. With his making a better future, for those that exist and will exist... I don't think he'd hate children, not at all. And as for him hating being pregnant, I think most people find it unpleasant LMFAO. Just because he's disabled doesn't mean he isn't capable of carrying. Disabled people can have, and can want to have, children. I should know, as it's personal to me. How do you feel on this?

I think this is all completely valid. At the same time I fully understand the other side of the issue, because (personally) I'm very viscerally repulsed by the idea of having a pregnancy, just on a gut level. Periods make me feel capital T terrible, I have enough health issues routinely that I'm on edge about losing control of my body every 3 months; and having a baby is The most chaotic and disorienting bodily experience you can willingly sign up for. Nine months of gestation! And it's not over even after the baby is out! You could be changed forever!

I'm empathetic to the viewpoint that viktor would be hyperaware of all the associated trials & risks and he wouldn't be super excited to sign up for it. When you're born with an uterus you're bombarded with the messaging that pregnancy is Inevitable and Desired and if you don't do it soon enough you are, in fact, wasting a precious limited resource of your body - and this is the norm, this is expected, but also generally quite horrific. I think people expressing their negative feelings on the trope come more from a place of personal discomfort, and fandom niches are one of the only spaces where this can be expressed without people looking at you like some sort of confessed criminal (or god forbid, a broken woman!!!!)

I don't think Viktor’s imagery necessarily implies pregnancy so much as him being trapped in a state of arrested development, reverting to a pre-ego self (or, a rebirth and reformation) he's on the death-life cycle, quite literally.

I also honestly believe ship babies stuff can be cute, and I've liked some of it. I've even read some pregnant viktor fics before, and eventually decided those aren't for me. To each their own! I like viktor as a spokesperson of body horror and i think the machine herald could do some great free abortions. I'm pro-get-jayce-pregnant. Life will find a way. He would probably see all of the positive sides and brush off the negatives then get really in touch with his feelings. let viktor be the bewildered dad. that's my take

[idkfitememate]

Still tired but just wanted to remind you that the Obey Me Brothers (- Satan + Lilith) were probably the “Seven Heavenly Virtues” before they fell/died and that was probably so hard for them like-

Lucifer going from Humility to Pride

Mammon going from Charity to Greed

Leviathan going from Kindness to Envy

Asmodeus going from Chastity to Lust

Beelzebub going from Temperance to Gluttony

And Belphegor going from Diligence to Sloth

Imagine as Lucifer going through it because now you can’t talk with your brothers, now you hold them to an expectation you would’ve never before - and yourself to an even higher one - and watching them loose themselves to their sins.

Watching Mammon lose himself to monetary values to the point where he’d be willing to sell his own brothers out if it came to it, and knowing that at some point he would’ve sold his everything because he believed it was right. Shit thing is that he still loves his brothers, and under the greed is guilt for hurting them like this.

Watching Levi, once a kind and loving man who would never leave anyone out become a self deprecating and destructive mess who shuts the world out. Who spends his time obsessing over what others have that he can’t and fighting tooth and nail to fix that, even if it hurts him. He, like Lucifer, has to be the best at his chosen craft or else it’s all for naught, but unlike Lucifer he’s very vocal about his losses and how much he hates others who have better than him.

Asmo, who at one point was basically repulsed at the idea of carnal love and wanted to wait, to hold out until he found the one he was searching for. Believe if that saving himself for his future partner was the ultimate act of love. And now watching him fall to depravity, unable to feel love unless it’s carnal in some sense. Everything must be passionate, with little room for true love. Feelings pushed aside for the heat of the moment, giving his body away to feel something. Finding no worth in himself unless it’s his body, and that translating over to how he treats his brothers. They have to suck up his shockingly flirty remarks to them because he can’t help it, that’s how he’s forced to show love now; fast, rushed, and carnal.

Watching Beel, a man who took everything in moderation, never allowing himself more than what he needed in food and drink in favor of helping others, loose himself to the mind numbing pleasure of sitting there and eating and drinking and eating and drinking and eating and drinking with no end in sight. As he can’t help himself but do anything for a meal, much like Mammon. Willing to do damn near anything to fill the hole in his stomach. No matter the cost.

And Belphy. A man once so awake and alert and ready for anything that even Lucifer would have to tell him to take a break. Always raring and ready to go and help any and everyone in need sleep his days away. Too lazy to do basic tasks at some points like eat. Lazing about too tired to do anything, including care for those around him. Too tired to do anything.

And the haunting truth that you, as Lucifer, created Wrath. Satan, your youngest brother in age and fourth in power. Knowing on the daily that he puts on a mask, a front so that his rage doesn’t consume him in an all burning inferno. Knowing that any little thing could set him off, and that’d be it. He shares next to nothing with you and your brothers because, while unspoken, it’s known that he’ll never be as close as the six of you. He didn’t experience the war, he didn’t experience the fall, he didn’t experience her death. Unlike your brothers who have all changed in some distressing way he’s always been rage. Always been Wrath. A true sin through and through. Never will you experience the same things and that keeps you separated.

And about her, to know deep in your heart that she, the Virtue of Patients, would’ve become the Sin of Wrath keeps you up at night, her face of smiles turning to a wrathful frown scares you. Nightmares flash behind your eyes of her being mad, furious even, so you starve the nights off with a never ending pile of paperwork and coffee.

… Did I just accidentally character study?-

[discofama]

I love how comfortable Adam and Lute are around each other.

I mean, look at this

So they're casually together during the extermination, much like how friends gravitate towards each other when in an event even if they're not talking or doing anything, just because it feels easier than being alone. Or perhaps Lute flew closer because she saw the huge war machine approaching Adam and got a little worried.

Charlie and Vaggie are going to attack them, and look at what they do:

Despite being Adam the one closer to Vaggie, he doesn't move an inch. They don't say anything (besides the shit talk) and Adam doesn't even look at her, he expects Lute will take care of Vaggie with no order from him, even if he's closer.

Obviously Adam is confident and doesn't think Vaggie can hurt him at all, but he clearly trusts Lute to get her out of the way. He probably knows how bloodthirsty Lute is for Vaggie and lets her have her without a word, and Lute complies, again, without a word, leaving him to handle the strongest of the enemies at that moment (Charlie).

So in this second, Adam and Lute communicated in silence. Adam didn't move and trusted her to cut in even if it was him the one under attack, and finally Lute trusted him to handle Charlie so she could fight Vaggie, as she didn't seem worried at all of the possibility of Charlie coming to protect her girlfriend.

They're in harmony. They're just natural together.

He lets her grab him like this and is willing to listen to her. It's clear he respects her and deep down appreciates that she'll keep him from doing something stupid, even if he whines.

She also climbs him? Lol. (Look at how she holds onto his arm ��� she's super comfortable with touching him!)

They're always hyping each other up, like in their songs:

(Look at Lute's smug face here 👇, she's sooo satisfied with what Adam's saying)

I honestly believe that they kinda make each other worse, that neither of them would be SO mean all the time if they didn't have the other: a companion who is always backing them up, who agrees on any crap that comes out of their mouth (Lute lets him talk shit about random women and nods, Adam goes along with Lute's homophobia despite seeming to not care that much about homosexuals).

Many portray Lute being a lot smarter than Adam, but I think they're both dumbasses. I mean, we laugh at Adam for saying he never made a mistake in his fucking life, but it was Lute who first stated angels don't make mistakes, somehow keeping a serious face. I think Lute seems smart because she's more quiet and cares about the rules, but she doesn't do logic very well either and can be impulsive too, as shown in the end of ep. 1.

They're probably each other's best/only friend, because they're just so unlikeable. And it makes sense they'd deeply care for one another. They care about that person that stands them and agrees with them and actually enjoys being with them. They're always seen together, hanging out even off duty. They clearly have a lot of fun.

I'll be honest. I ship GuitarSpear, I love it, but I don't know if I want it to be canon for 2 reasons:

1. Lute might be a lesbian.

She is so repulsed by homosexuals that it feels personal. Talking about how disgusting and blasphemous Charlie and Vaggie's love is, or how many cocks were in Angel's mouth and calling him a whore. She cares too much about it for it to not be personal, and I think it makes sense that she'd be a closet lesbian with a shit ton of internalized homophobia. She probably knew about Vaggie's sexuality and held a lot of resentment towards her before tearing off her wings. Maybe she was even attracted to her and was so repulsed about it that she redirected her self-hatred to Vaggie.

2. I think it could be better for Adam's character.

Let's just think about it. This character has a very distorted view of women, he has a fixation on them and hypersexualizes them. So the idea of this horny man, who always sees women with sex colored glasses, being good friends with a hot female below him in the hierarchy with no sexual or romantic interest whatsoever is nice to me. It'd work as sort of a redeeming quality in regards of his relationship with women, and I personally think this man is very redeemable. Let's hope he gets a second chance!

Still! All of this trust and comfort and team feelings can be read as romantic and I certainly wouldn't mind if it becomes canon! They could be the best villain couple!

Summarizing, these two are soulmates, end of the story. They're worse together, but also probably provide the other of a very needed company.

I have no clue if Adam will actually come back, but if he doesn't, I'll feel very bad for Lute. Yeah, yeah, she's an evil bitch, I don't care.

[thebiggerbear]

"I took care of that asshole for you." "I don't like the sound of that." - Soldier Boy Prompt Response

Summary: When Ben mentions something to you in the middle of battle, your attempt at a little levity turns the conversation in a direction that probably would have been better kept off of Comms during a mission.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader; Soldier Boy x Female!Supe!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @dumplingsjinson. This came out of nowhere, I have no idea what it is, and yes, I did pick on Hughie a little bit. After Season 3, he deserved it a little. 😜

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy; explicit mentions of violence/blood/gore; mentions of death & dead bodies; explicit language; a smidgen of dirty talk; implications

Word Count: 2132

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

SB Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

@muhahaha303; @just-levyy

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

You can also read on AO3

"I took care of that asshole for you." "I don't like the sound of that."

“You got six more on their way up to you,” you warned Ben before dodging and knocking out the three security guards you were currently battling. You could hear reinforcements thundering up the stairs to your op partner.

“Good,” Ben grunted in your earpiece. “Now we’re in for a good fucking time.” You heard the brute force of his strength impacting human flesh from the sounds of loud blows and sickening crunches echoing in your eardrum. You rolled your eyes at Ben’s comment and held your breath as you popped out of the area you were in and appeared next to him on the fifty fourth floor. You immediately joined the fray.

“There you are, doll. Here to join the party?” Ben gave you a smirk as he knocked several men across the room with his shield.

“I wouldn’t call this a party.” You lifted your arm in his direction and a small beam shot out, killing the man who had been approaching behind him with a gun. “But yeah, I’m here. Let’s do this and get it done.”

Ben turned to see the dead man fall in a crumpled heap and then smirked even wider at you. “Lead the way, dollface.”

You did just that, busting into the stairwell and racing up the stairs. Ben was right behind you. 

You both encountered rashes of security response teams in between floors that you worked together to take out. You heard a gun click behind you but before you could react, Ben knocked the weapon from the man’s hand and then bashed his head against the concrete wall, leaving behind a very big stain of blood and brain matter. 

Ben turned to you, his green eyes stormy and dark. You knew that look by now even if you hadn’t just seen what you did; it usually preceded a murderous rage Soldier Boy would go into if anyone was stupid enough to really piss him off. And that didn’t even begin to touch what would set off the nuke inside his chest.

“I took care of that asshole for you.” He inclined his head in the dead man’s direction.

You screwed up your face in mock disgust. “Yeah, I don’t like the sound of that.”

The jade storm you were staring at lightened slightly and a very dirty smirk adorned his face instead. “One of these nights, you’re going to take me up on that offer, doll.”

You snorted and used your forearm to wipe some blood off of your face. Great. Now he’d never stop trying to talk you into it. “That ass belongs to me and you know it,” he’d always tease, wearing that same filthy grin, before you’d tell him that wasn’t happening and proceeded to distract him in other ways. 

“Uh, if you two are done doing whatever kind of gross and perverted flirting this is, you’re about to have another welcome party in the next forty five seconds,” Hughie spoke in your ear, sounding uncomfortable and thoroughly repulsed.

“Sounds like something you told Butcher while licking his balls before he turned that tight ass of yours into the Lincoln Tunnel,” Ben fired back.

“What are you talking about? That doesn’t even make sense, you ass.”

You shook your head in disgust at the exchange, not really listening to Hughie’s predictable and offended response, and you were about to head up the stairs when Ben’s hand grasped your shoulder and turned you around. He leaned in, murmuring into your free ear, “I forgot we were on comms.” You knew that was his roundabout way of apologizing. “I meant what I said, doll. Think about it. For now, I just can’t wait to get this shit over with and be back in that sweet pussy of yours, right where I belong.” Normally, that would disgust you rather than turn you on, but Ben always had a way of painting a picture with the dirtiest fucking words that somehow had you aching for it to become a reality. So much so that everyone and everything else would cease to exist in your world temporarily until it was indeed made a reality. Mallory put you two together because you would be the strongest team to be able to go up against Homelander and Vought. She never expected that you two would become more than partners on ops. You couldn’t begin to count the amount of times you’d popped yourself and Ben out of an op to get busy elsewhere once you were distracted, and she’d had to warn you both that if you didn’t cooperate, the deal would be off the table. To which Ben would then push you back onto said table, or desk, or whatever flat surface in the room, forcing her to roll her eyes and exit the room, leaving you both to demolish the place in a frenzy until you both were popped out of there by your own self.  

Hearing your heartbeat pick up in response to his statement, Ben gripped your cheeks with his bloody fingerless gloves, rubbing a thumb tenderly over your bottom lip. You could feel the wetness he left behind and you should be grossed out, but then his lips were suddenly on yours and as so often happened when that occurred, your head got a little fuzzy and your brain turned off. You shoved him into the concrete wall, causing a loud cracking sound, but neither of you cared to look. Instead, you had jumped up into his arms and began grinding against him as you dug your teeth into his lip and pulled, making him chuckle into your mouth. 

You were then pushed up against the wall, your hands held above your head in one of his, causing another cracking sound. The darkness in his gaze was back, but this time for a whole other reason. He covered your mouth with his and you couldn’t help but moan, twitching against his hold that only seemed to tighten. His other hand disappeared in between you, working at the fastenings of his suit. If he would just let your hands free, you could help him with that and have it done much faster.

“Guys! Guys! GUYS! HEY!” Hughie yelled into your earpieces. You both broke apart, wincing at the sudden pain in your ear drums. 

“Fuck!” Ben yelled as you grit your teeth. Ben had released you and both of you held your hands to your ears. 

“Welcome party in twenty seconds! Focus!”

Ben recovered first. “I’m going to fucking rip your spine out when I get back there, you snivelling little shit!” 

Hughie’s audible gulp was heard on the line.

You were still waiting for the reverberations in your ears to stop. “Shit,” you whimpered. Okay, yeah, you both had gotten a little carried away just like you usually tended to do and you needed to focus on the mission at hand, but damn. Had that really been necessary? The amount of pain in your ears confirmed that no, it fucking hadn’t.

Ben gripped your chin and forced you to meet his eyes. The fire that had been there before cooled slightly but it still burned brightly. “We’ll finish this later,” he promised in a quiet murmur, giving your hearing a moment to recuperate which you really appreciated. He even tenderly stroked the skin in front of your ears. “Better?” He asked after a few seconds had passed.

You nodded, still wincing slightly as you held one hand to your right ear. “Yeah. Thanks.” He gently placed you down on your feet and you took an uneasy step forward, him catching you before you could fall. While you and Ben both had super hearing, yours was a little extra — a very fucked up side effect of the Compound V in your system. So someone yelling in the same room as you was harsh on your eardrums and made you want to claw at your head. Someone yelling in your ear was pure fucking torture and literally rocked your world. Which was why now your equilibrium was temporarily fucked.

“Hughie,” you hissed. “If you ever do anything like that again, I’m going to rip your dick off and shove it so far down your throat, you’ll shit it back out. Which, from what I hear, should be an easy feat considering you’re used to having one up your ass. Do you understand me?”

Another audible gulp was heard down the line. “S-Sorry. It’s just, you guys are in the middle of the mission and you’re about to—”

“Hughie,” you snarled.

“Yes, ma’am.”

A proud smile graced Ben’s face as he helped you back to your feet but you were in no mood to smile back. You held a hand to your head, feeling a headache coming on thanks to what just happened. You then felt Ben’s lips at your temple. “You sure you’re okay?”

These fleeting moments of tenderness that Ben would show you still always managed to surprise you. But it was also one of the reasons you had let him into your bed and your heart (though he didn’t know about that last part yet and probably wouldn’t for some time if you had your way). You could take or leave Soldier Boy 99.9% of the time, but Ben — Ben you stayed for. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, laying your head down on his shoulder and closing your eyes for a moment. You felt his hand rubbing your back and you relaxed at the heat you felt through the fabric of your suit. 

“Guys,” Hughie interrupted more softly this time. “Sorry to break this up but you’ve got ten seconds until the next welcome wagon shows up.”

Your eyes snapped open and you lifted your head. “Exactly why are we doing all of the heavy lifting on this one again?”

Ben chuckled as he pressed a kiss above your right ear and then moved to pick up his shield from where he’d dropped it when you pushed him before.     

“We need to get a sample of the newest batch of V that Vought is cooking up so we know if—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you interrupted Hughie. “I remember. You just make sure Mallory remembers that after this, Ben and I are on an extended vacation.” Ben gave you an approving smirk.

“Ah, okay.”

“I mean it, Hughie. Or I’ll be popping into places you and everyone else do not even want to fucking imagine. Termite will look like the shitty little prequel that couldn’t, compared to what I can do.” And you would make good on your threat, too. You and Ben deserved a break. They’d had you doing shit like this for nearly four months now. This was the most dangerous op yet but they’d perfectly timed it when Homelander and his group of Subpar Supes (as you called them) would be on a government-sanctioned mission out of the country. That didn’t mean that Homelander couldn’t get back here immediately if he was notified of a security breach in the Tower. Especially if he knew Soldier Boy was involved. 

You heard another door slam open two flights above you and you let out a tired sigh. You only had a few more levels to go until you reached the Labs. And thanks to Supe stamina, you didn’t tire easily so a couple of more caches of guards that Vought could pull out of its large steel ass were nothing. But damn if you didn’t want this op to be over with already and you and Ben were on a tropical beach somewhere that you had popped both of you to. 

The footsteps thundered down the stairs as the guards rushed to engage you and you glanced over towards Ben. His smirk grew as he tensed and got ready for battle. “Come on, doll. Let’s have a little more fun before we blow the joint.”

You huffed out a laugh and got ready yourself, your hands beginning to glow as you held them out in front of you. “There you go with your words again,” you teased.

He appeared next to you, holding up his shield in front of you both. “The only one you’re going to be blowing tonight, doll, is me.”

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous joke but before you could respond, you heard in your ear, “Gross.” You couldn’t help but snicker along with Ben right before the guards attacked. Well, that’s what the little shit got for nearly cracking your eardrums before. He was just lucky that you hadn’t popped over to him, backhanded him to cause him the same amount of pain he had caused you, and popped back to Vought. As for Ben, well…you were going to make damn sure he kept his promise to you, on all counts.  

A/N: 🤷‍♀️

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[byers-bowlcut]

I've seen people say El likes the IDEA of having a boyfriend more than she actually likes her own boyfriend, and jfc it's so true 😭 Like it's all over the show:

Season 1

She's initially attached to Mike because he's the first person to give her shelter, food, genuine human care and just,, not calling CPS immediately. Her feelings for him was born from trauma and dependency in season 1. And throughout the rest of the 3 seasons, we don't see it grow past that.

Also I think it's noticeable in S1 that:

She was uninterested when Mike tried to share his hobbies with her

She also did not seem to mind AT ALL when she questioned if Mike could be her brother. He voice is neutral and curious here, not the least bit repulsed by the thought of being siblings with Mike, like girl does not care 😭

Season 2

This season has zero onscreen moments of Mike and El actually getting to know each other further. They were separated nearly the whole season.

What we DO see:

El's attachment and dependency on Mike that was developed from S1

We also find out how El spent a year of her life watching melodramatic romance films. Many other middle schoolers might identify that relationships in real life don't work like those films. But El is fresh out of lab life, she's literally learning the world through this TV, and has now become obsessed with the IDEA of having a boyfriend/relationship just like that.

Season 3

Again, no onscreen moments of El showing interest in who Mike is as a person.

The very first scene we see of them, she's trying to get him to stop singing along to the song they're listening to. She seems to like kissing Mike. But isn't shown enjoying anything actually characteristic about him, like sharing interests with him such as music.

Hopper indicates that they don't do anything meaningful together either. We see here that before hanging out with Max, El had little sense of her own style, her hobbies, her interests- meaning spending time with Mike for months probably didn't involve many talking points did it?

Also in season 3, El dumps Mike with ZERO hesitation. Then she has the time of her life with Max. The most acknowledgment we get that she's oh so heartbroken is a small frown to Max that her and Mike aren't on best terms. And even that doesn't seem so paramount cause 1 episode later she totally dismisses Mike after he explains how Hopper threatened him. She just tells him maybe Hopper was right 😭😭

It's literally ONLY once she starts becoming in danger that she starts clinging onto him again. I feel like we've seen this film before hm.

Like where are any signs that she likes Mike as an individual, and is falling for who he really is, rather than simply being attached due to trauma, and liking the concept of doing romantic things (ie: kissing, dancing at the ball, etc.)

Season 4

This is the season it becomes the MOST OBVIOUS: El loves the concept of a happy relationship and being loved, but not really loving Mike for who he is. And bringing in Will's feelings just emphasizes this point.

To start, El continues doing all these relationship-y things that she did in the start of S3. She has Mike's name and pictures plastered all over her room. She makes a "Mike box" with his pictures decorated all over it. But the thing is: this is all sort of a façade at this point. We know she's BEEN unhappy with him for months ("From Mike! From Mike! From Mike!"). But with all these items, she's basically trying to convince herself that she's in this happy, fantasy, movie-like relationship, like she probably watched in hopper's cabin in season 2.

And then, there's the sheer difference between her and WILL in their feelings for Mike. We see it right off the bat when Mike comes to the airport: Will and El both have plans to give Mike something.

Will plans to give him a painting he worked extremely hard on. The painting is a connection of what they BOTH love: DnD, and it includes their friends who also play the game. It's very personal and immediately touches Mike. What's more is, the painting illustrates the exact qualities about Mike that Will loves: his leadership, his bravery, his guidance. This painting literally spells out to us that Will truly loves Mike for WHO HE IS.

Meanwhile, El plans on giving Mike a fun reunion date. She has the whole day planned out. And immediately: we see that what she wants to do doesn't actually takes Mike's interests and personality into consideration. You can see and hear the strain in his voice when he talks about "burritos for breakfast" 😬

You can see how he's not that relaxed at rinkomania, and nervous about skating, saying he's clumsy. He probably would've much preferred movies and playing a board game, over skating. But El has her own ideas. When she brings Mike to rinkomania, she tries to act really cool about it. She wants to impress him, wants to seem like she fits in and belongs.

Her present was never actually ABOUT Mike, and about loving Mike that she would plan this huge date for him. Her present was about her desperately wanting to have this cool date like every other normal teen girl might, with a normal boyfriend, and make it seem like they have a happy perfect relationship.

And then finally we reach their S4 fight. I find it extremely interesting how Hopper's cabin is framed in the background during their whole fight. It's almost like an indication that her desperate need to be loved by Mike stems from her trying to cope with losing Hopper and the hole left by him, that clearly did not exist when she happily dumped Mike in S3.

In their fight, when the topic of bullying comes up, Mike says he understands her, but El is quick to say he doesn't. She thinks Mike doesn't understand her, but this is just as much her not understanding HIM as well.

She doesn't get the extent of Mike's insecurities (definitely partially a result of bullying), something that Mike later divulges to WILL and not her. If the writers wanted to show us how much El understands Mike and loves him for who he is, her and Mike would work through his insecurities in their rs together, NOT through a middle man.

Overall it's pretty striking that we've never once heard El actually compliment Mike, or articulate, or even show what exactly she loves about him through four whole seasons. I mean...

Attachment to him due to trauma or grief =/= loving him for who he is.

Wanting to BE loved =/= loving him for who he is.

So really in terms of a relationship, what El ACTUALLY wants is the concept/idea of a regular boyfriend, and a happy easy relationship, all in an attempt to feel normal. And that's why we see them fall apart the way they do in season 4, and why Will is currently so involved. Because Will DOES see and love Mike for exactly who he is.

[juustokaku]

Confidentiality - Chapter 5. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

T/W: This story will include talk about mental health struggles such as body dysmorphia, paranoid thoughts and more. Possessive and obsessive behavior, stalking. Dark themes are to be expected.

A/N: Forgive me; this chapter is absolute shit! Publishing this makes me feel very ashamed and disappointed in myself. I hate this so much, but it's probably the best what I can do right now. I hope I didn't let you down and hope you won't lose your interest for this story because of this chapter. Also, this chapter has only Mingi (finally), Jongho, and the stalker, whoever that might be. I swear the story won't be about Jongho all the time although he's been in a lot of chapters, since he is important at the beginning. I hope I'm not wasting your time with this, and that at least someone will find this enjoyable :,) Thank you for reading!

Word count: 4 641

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“Is this really necessary?” 

“Just take my hand. How do you think the stalker is going to notice we’re in a relationship otherwise?” 

At Jongho’s question, you began to ponder. The stalker would notice anyway that there was something supposedly between you and Jongho, so why did you have to hold hands with him? 

Nonetheless, you grabbed Jongho’s warm hand, intertwining your fingers together. It was supposed to look romantic and make everyone think you were two lovebirds flying on cloud 9, but it looked most likely awkward. That’d work too, you supposed. After all, the first stages of relationships sometimes felt embarrassing. 

“Fake relationship, remember.” 

Jongho scoffed, “Do you think I’d be in a real relationship with you?” 

That hurt. You had been rejected before by romantic and platonic interests, but none of them had talked to you like you were a repulsive, filthy animal looming in the sewers. 

“No...” 

He just glanced at you as you gave your dejected reply. It was clearly not in his interest to make you feel loved, but it was probably better for him to be brutally honest, than fool you into thinking the act of being a couple wasn’t just pretending. 

“I hope the performance won’t be a waste of our time,” Jongho murmured. 

It had been his idea to go together to a Valentine’s Day event the city had arranged. What could be more romantic than holding hands and watching awful music performances by unknown wannabe artists while freezing to death? 

The stage in front of you was decorated with red paper hearts and white balloons in a bad taste, being a shameful insult to art. Maybe it was supposed to get people on festive mood yet it only gave everyone who looked at it a headache. You were already feeling anxious to have so many people around you in the audience, but you had to endure it; Jongho had demanded you to stay with him for your own safety. The moment you’d leave his sight, the stalker could strike.  

Just then, you saw a familiar person step on the stage with overflowing confidence. 

“Is that... Mingi?” you murmured in shock, more to yourself than Jongho. 

The man holding your hand couldn’t answer to you. Jongho was usually so calm and collected, so it amused you greatly to see him, lips parted and eyes wide, trying to make sense out of the sight in front of him. 

“Mingus Dingus in the house! Fix on!” 

A couple people from the crowd cheered at his arrival. The rest of the audience, at least 70 people, were whispering to each other and wondering who Mingi was. 

“Apparently, this poor excuse of a city doesn’t have enough money to use on events anymore.” 

“Yeah. I have no idea who this is. Possibly some homeless man, that they found from the streets and promised to give dinner money to if he performed.” 

You heard a couple men next to you talk poorly about Mingi, which made your heart ache. Mingi didn’t seem like a bad person, completely opposite actually. He was passionate about his music and had both courage and energy to keep doing what he loved. That was admirable. 

Tensing up as the music started playing, you squeezed Jongho’s hand tighter without even noticing. This performance would turn out to be a catastrophe, a total fiasco, and a hit on your already fragile mental health. You couldn’t handle seeing people fail, it just made you want to bury yourself so you would never have to see something like that again. 

But as Mingi opened his mouth and his self-written lyrics started flowing out, you found yourself flabbergasted. Even impressed. 

“Sent it off in the wind, every photo, every piece of my heart...” 

Jongho seemed to listen to Mingi’s performance as well with perked up ears. 

“It was tough for me to see a single letter, so I sent it all away...” 

Mingi’s voice made you feel all kinds of things. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact names for them, but the emotions in his voice and the lyrics hit you deep in the heart. It was something unexplainable. 

You watched the performance and the way Mingi’s eyes shined with flames of passion that could not be put out. It was something that nobody could fake; only people who truly loved what they were doing would be able to captivate like that. It was so vulnerable, like he was opening up to everyone who listened. 

Unfortunately, a lot of people didn’t bother to listen. They were leaving little by little, and by the end of the song, only about 30 people were still listening to what Mingi wanted to express through his music. 

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s leave.” 

Before you could control your reactions, you answered Jongho firmly, “No. I want to listen.” 

You would have never dared to speak like that to anyone, let alone to Jongho, but Mingi’s song had woken up both your emotions and loyalty to him as his new fan. 

It went unnoticed by you how Jongho’s expression darkened at your refusal. His grip tightened on your hand but all you cared about in that moment was Mingi. 

As the performance continued, the rest of the audience left as well. It even made you angry. Of course, people had the right to leave if a performance didn’t interest them, but how could they be so deaf to the art Mingi had created? 

It was the most freezing day of February, but you couldn’t care less about your shivering body or the cold wind that almost pushed you down. It was like even the wind didn’t care about Mingi’s songs and wanted to push you away from the stage. The way his performance set the stage on fire warmed your body and soul in the cold. 

At last, the performance ended. Mingi had given his whole soul to it, to reach people’s ears and hearts, but you were the only one whose heart he had successfully won over. 

Only two people, you and Jongho, had stayed the whole time. As the last chords of the song played, you stared at Mingi in awe, head empty and heart full. He looked at the audience he had left, and despite the lack of people, bowed deep and respectfully. He was thankful that he hadn’t been left completely alone, to perform for the emptiness. 

“Fix off.” 

Jongho tried to hold onto your hand tightly, but you ripped it away from his grip to applaud Mingi. Your lonely yet sincere claps reached Mingi’s ears, and he casted a smile for you. Then he left the stage. 

“Y/N, don’t-” 

You didn’t care about Jongho’s demand. Only thing you needed to do now was to run to Mingi and tell him how much his performance meant for you. How amazing he was. How he had managed to touch your heart. Unlike usually, you weren’t interested in the possibility of embarrassing yourself. 

Your hurried steps reached Mingi fast, although the headwind was slightly slowing you down. He was facing another direction, head turned downwards. 

“Mingi! Your performance was amazing! I never could have guessed you were that talented,” you spoke, sounding a bit too excited. 

Hopefully Mingi wouldn’t think of you as some deranged fan. 

But you hadn’t expected to see tears on his face as he turned around to look into your eyes. 

“Don’t lie to me. I know no-one liked it.” 

Speechless, you looked at Mingi’s heartbreaking expression. Warm tears were glistening in his eyes and streaming down his face. Lips pressed in a tight line, he looked somehow offended at your comment, trying to hold onto his dignity. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here. I have no talent.” 

You frowned at Mingi’s words, “Do you think I would have stayed here and rushed to compliment you, if I hadn’t liked your performance?” 

Jongho had walked up to you silently and was standing next to you, hands in the pockets of his jacket. The look on his face directed at you was even colder than the air, as he listened you praise Mingi. 

“I would have left with the other people if your performance hadn’t been good.” 

At your words, even more tears welled up in Mingi’s eyes. He looked away from you, probably feeling embarrassed to show such vulnerability in front of you and Jongho. 

“I just want you to know that your lyrics, songs and voice impressed me. They made me feel... things,” you rambled on before starting to realize you were way too passionate. 

A hopeful expression crossed Mingi’s face, before disappearing like he was afraid to get his hopes up and heart broken, “What kind of things?” 

You were getting shy under Mingi and Jongho’s eyes. It was too late to act coy now; you had already revealed your overwhelming emotions Mingi’s songs had managed to bring up to the surface. 

On top of everything, you could relate to him. He worked so hard to be seen and appreciated, but got only ridiculing snorts and ignorance as a response. Some people were born to be insignificant in others’ eyes while the rest were born lucky to be acknowledged. To be seen wasn’t something to take for granted. 

“I could relate to your songs. The emotions you showed in your performance uncovered something in me that I have tried to forget.” 

It was almost a magical moment to see Mingi’s eyes sparkle. Could have been the tears that made it look like his eyes shined, but there was more to it. All of his dreams had been accomplished when he heard that his songs finally managed to reach someone’s ears. That he had been seen at last. 

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I will never forget what you said!” Mingi suddenly grabbed both of your hands in his, holding tightly to them like you were his salvation. 

“That’s enough,” Jongho ripped your hands forcefully out of the taller man’s grip. 

Sure, Jongho had to act like you were a couple, but was it really fair to treat Mingi like that? You had already lost your confidence that had emerged from nowhere before, so you had no courage to say anything. You had to remember, Jongho was still a man and much stronger than you; it would be hard to fight back if he decided he had had enough of your attitude. 

“I can hold her hands if I want to. What are you, her boyfriend?” 

“In fact, I am. So, keep your hands to yourself,” Jongho warned Mingi. 

Mingi looked suddenly devastated, which surprised you. His mouth was agape, trying to say something. He didn’t manage to let anything past his lips other than his silent breathing. He was left behind as Jongho led you away. 

Later on, you arrived at a park. To your luck, the park still had people wandering around although the sky was already turning dark. Although Jongho had promised to protect you, you didn’t want to be left alone with any man after the sun had set. String lights set to hang from the leafless trees lit up your way as you walked hand in hand with him. 

“Look at that! An ice rink!” you gasped, pointing at an ice rink in the park, not being able to hide your excitement. You hadn’t been ice skating since forever. 

Jongho gave you a judging side-eye, “Too expensive. Let’s go drink hot chocolate.” 

You had no courage to fight back his idea, so you let him lead you to a stall selling all kinds of drinks and treats. To be honest, you felt like this was actually romantic and fit the Valentine’s Day although you were spending it with a fake boyfriend. With a man who had implied he would never date you. 

“Two hot chocolates. Sizes small and large,” Jongho said to the man keeping the stall. 

Well honestly, he was more like a boy. He looked the age of 17 and extremely bored. You couldn’t blame him since he had been holding the stall probably for hours already, trying to earn some pathetic amount of pocket money. 

You dug for your wallet, prepared to pay for the small sized drink, since Jongho most likely had ordered the large one for himself. He could have at least asked which size you wanted; the small one would not be enough to quench your thirst. 

“I’ll pay,” Jongho said and pushed a carton mug full of hot chocolate into your hands. 

The fact that he promised to pay surprised you already, but you noticed that the mug he had given you was the size large. 

“Thank you...” you mumbled, looking up in Jongho’s eyes. 

His blank stare made you uncomfortable. Why did he never smile at you? It wasn’t very convincing to never crack a smile at you, when you were supposed to act like a couple in love. 

You two found a bench to sit on under a tree. It was a beautiful spot, the perfect place for you to sit next to each other, huddle for warmth and share tender kisses – that was if you two had been actually dating. There was just one problem: the bench was covered in thick layer of snow after last night’s storm. 

“Are you really suggesting this spot? I’d look like I had wet myself after sitting on that.” 

“You can sit on my lap. That way your ass won’t get wet.” 

Jongho’s proposal made your eyes widen. He was truly shameless. 

And finally, it happened. He smiled at you – although it was a mischievous one, it was the first smile you had ever seen on his face. The emotionless man was forgotten as you watched how his cheeks, slightly red because of the cold air, rounded out and made him look like a teddy bear. 

“You’re always so closed off, trying to hide your emotions,” Jongho said. 

Look who’s talking. He wasn’t exactly the most open person in the world either. 

“I’m not closed off. Both you and Mingi saw how emotional I got over his songs.” 

Ever so slightly, Jongho’s expression darkened. His smile was long gone and he sighed in frustration. 

“I’m musical too, you know? I may not rap as well as Mingi but I can sing.” 

“Really? Prove it,” you challenged him. 

“No. You don’t deserve to hear my singing,” Jongho took a sip of his drink. 

“Fine. Then I’ll assume Mingi is better.” 

It was a risky game to play with Jongho. His reaction could be anything, but you couldn’t stop yourself before teasing him. You were getting way too comfortable. You knew it was dangerous, but you had been craving to have a friend for so long. Now that someone was actually willingly wasting their time on you, it felt like a chance to a new start. 

“I’ll sing for you one day but first, I want to give you something.” 

You raised a brow at Jongho’s statement, and your heartbeat quickened as he pulled something out of his bag. 

Could it be a Valentine’s Day gift? Maybe a flower or a heart-shaped chocolate box? 

But it had been a mistake to let your guard slightly down around Jongho. He proved to you right at that moment that he shouldn’t have been trusted. That you should have run away and hid from him when you had the chance. 

The object in his hand was unrecognizable in the dark at first. You could only see the gleam of the yard lights reflected on the object, making you finally realize what it was. 

Jongho tossed his hot chocolate cup away, symbolizing how all of his sweet gestures had been a skillful play thrown away as well, just like your whole relationship. Now his other hand was completely free to use, while the other one held a pocket knife. 

You wanted to scream or try to convince him to spare your life, but you were speechless. Only thing you managed to do was take a few, shaky steps away from him, the monster in front of you. 

He didn’t let you get further away as he followed you with a gleam in his eyes that screamed insanity. 

“Do you fear death or me?” Jongho asked calmy. 

You glanced at the park. It was like everyone had suddenly disappeared. There was no savior for you if Jongho attacked. You would lose your life alone in the darkness before anyone could have come to your rescue. 

“A-Aren’t they the same thing?” 

Jongho shook his head with a chuckle, “Death sets you free. I will never do that.” 

His words rang in your ears for a split second before you dashed. Time was running out. 

“Y/N! Stop!” 

You didn’t even hear Jongho’s shout. No matter how loud he could have screamed at you, there was no chance you’d stop. You had to run out of the park and reach other people before Jongho could catch you and brutally pierce and cut your body, until you were unrecognizable to the police. Maybe even Yunho would be the one to find you. Yunho who wasn’t the stalker despite all your baseless suspicions. 

But one of the worst things, that was possible in that moment, happened. The ground under your feet was on ice and betrayed you ultimately. Your heart almost stopped as you lost your balance. 

Your cry of pain echoed in the park as your head smashed onto the ground, although your back had received the worst impact of falling on ice. It hurt like hell, but even in all your suffering, you couldn’t think of anything else than about the fact that this was the end. You had tried to trust other people and this was the result. In your intense pain and on the brink of unconsciousness, you didn’t even notice as Jongho got on his knees next to you on the ground. 

Tears ran down your cheeks, but you couldn’t even beg for your life. It was futile. 

Last thing your mind registered before fainting was Jongho’s warm hand petting your head. 

It felt like you had been unconscious for eternity when in reality it had been only 20 minutes or so. When you finally opened your eyes, you found your surroundings familiar. The person next to you was familiar as well. 

“You fainted.” 

No words left your lips, but your eyes told everything. You were terrified and confused. 

“I brought you here after you lost your consciousness.” 

You glanced at the room. It was your own apartment, everything in their own places, but it still seemed so wrong and unsafe, because of the man in front of you. The couch you found comfortable every other day, felt way too stiff in that moment, making the pain in your back worse. 

“That doesn’t explain why I’m alive. What do you want from me?” you managed to utter out, but the wavering in your voice didn’t go unnoticed. 

Jongho turned his face away with a guilty look. It was clear he regretted something. 

“It was all just a really bad joke. I didn’t mean to scare you that much.” 

The mix of anger and relief felt odd; you didn’t know whether to scream at him or cry in happiness that you didn’t get murdered. But you were too scared of him to show any reactions. Even if it had been just a joke, only a deranged person would scare others like that for their own entertainment. 

That’s why you forced yourself to forgive him. 

“...I forgive you” you gritted through your teeth. 

“I didn’t apologize though.” 

Your anger only flared up at Jongho’s arrogant response. First, he had seemed guilty for scaring you to death, but any ounce of regret you thought he had, was out of the window. Soon, Jongho would be out of the window as well; you didn’t want to see his remorseless face at that moment. 

“Get out of my house.” 

You had turned to look away from him, because you were afraid, you’d lash out at him. 

Jongho looked even slightly hurt at your words. The frown on his face was an indication of his growing agitation and refusal to leave that easily. 

“Do you want me to say sorry then?” 

“No,” you murmured, “It’s too late for that.” 

“Exactly. And I’m not sorry anyways,” Jongho scoffed, “I had to see how you’d react if the stalker was about to kill you. Think of it as practice. It was for your own good.” 

Taking in a deep breath, you tried to stay calm. It could be dangerous to anger the man even more, although you were the only one who had the right to be angry at that moment. And God, you were furious. 

“For my own good? I got a concussion and nearly broke my back!” 

“If you don’t appreciate me looking out for you, we can end this fake relationship.” 

Looking out for you? You couldn’t believe the audacity that man had. 

“Then let’s end this.” 

Jongho seemed to be stunned by your words – as stunned as a man that stoic and cold could be. You even felt a sense of glee at the tiny look of panic on his face. 

“No. I wasn’t serious. I just felt irritated because you don’t see how I want to protect you.” 

But you didn’t fall for that. You had no intention to be a victim of his manipulation. 

As you attempted to stand up from the couch, you whimpered in agony. The pain on your back was unbearable, but you were more concerned about the piercing headache, feeling like your head was being squished by a hydraulic press. 

“Let me-” Jongho started, getting up and trying to help you. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

You stepped away from him, feeling afraid once again. Could you be blamed for that, when just a half an hour ago you feared for your life because of that man? Even though it had been supposedly a joke, you couldn’t shake off the sense of panic at Jongho walking closer. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Get out,” you sighed, “Please.” 

The bright lights in your apartment hurt your head even more, and you barely stayed on your feet. Although your eyes were getting blurry, you managed to see Jongho’s sad face and him walking towards your front door. 

The apartment was silent as you sat down again, rubbing your temples and trying to ease the pain. The heavy tension hadn’t left although Jongho had. You didn’t know how to meet him again at the therapy session in a few days. 

That Valentine’s Day had seemed successful at first, and you had enjoyed Mingi’s performance despite the heartbreak you felt at seeing his anguish. Even conversing with Jongho had been nice until his poor attempt of a joke. What was supposed to be a day of friendship and romance – even fake kind – ended up in being horrifying. 

You really needed rest, some way to forget the headache for a while, so you fell asleep on the couch. Maybe the dizziness and Jongho’s “joke” would be just distant memories after a good nap, although you doubted that you’d ever forget Jongho’s face as he had creeped closer to you at the park.  

It might have been 30 minutes or so when the sound of a doorbell woke you up. If it was Jongho, you wouldn’t even open the door, not prepared to hear his excuses. 

Reluctantly, you dragged yourself to the door, wincing in pain every step you took. One look from the peephole revealed, that instead of Jongho, there was a man with flowers. He looked serious and exhausted but his silly little cap made him look less scary. 

“Flowers for miss Y/N L/N,” the man forced a smile on his face as you opened the door. 

Your heart fluttered. Someone had remembered you and sent you flowers. It could have been your family who sent the beautiful, bright yellow roses, since they wanted to remind you that they loved you despite all of the things they had done to you. 

Or maybe it could have been from the stalker. 

Nonetheless, you had to accept the roses, no matter how much their thorns could hurt you. They could prickle you with longing or draw blood from your fingers with promises of terror, but your curiosity got the best of you. 

You set the roses down on your dinner table when you noticed that they had a little letter tied to them with a pink ribbon. 

“Your pathetic boyfriend didn’t even give you a gift. Look what I brought.” 

Your blood ran cold. It was no doubt of who had sent you this. Still, you wanted to believe it could have been Mingi instead, even though he didn’t even know where you lived. Anything but the indisputable truth that the sender was indeed the stalker. 

But it wasn’t the end of your shock. You wanted to cry when you noticed another thing as well – a pink envelope that had come with the rose, inviting you to open it. There were heart stickers on it, one of them being a shiny teddy bear holding a heart. The envelope wanted to cast a spell on you and make you so scared yet curious, that you couldn’t stop yourself from seeing what it contained. 

And it definitely succeeded in that, although you tried your best to ignore it, to leave it unopened for the sake of your own sanity. 

Seven pieces of paper were revealed to be inside of it. 

You hated these envelopes so much. You despised the drawings, pictures and letters you had to see because you were just too curious to stay in blissful ignorance. 

Six out of seven of the pieces of paper had drawings on them. They were drawings of parts of a human body. Two pieces of arms, two of legs, one torso and one head. It had been clearly one whole drawing, one whole body of a woman, before having been cut into six pieces. The head even had a pout on it and hair similarly styled as yours. 

Confused about the drawing, you prepped yourself to take a look at the 7th piece of paper. The drawing was definitely a threat, there was no doubt of that, but you craved to understand it deeper. Although the whole thing made you feel nauseous, you needed to know what kind of and level of peril you were in – and to do that, you had to bite the bullet. 

There were words on the paper, written by a hand, whose writing style you recognized. 

“I’ll cut off your arms if you try to fight back,” the first sentence said. 

“I’ll cut off your legs if you try to escape,” the second sentence informed. 

“I’ll cut off your head if your eyes wander on or lips kiss someone else.” 

After you had read the final threat on the paper, you leaned on your chair, everything seemed to have slowed down. Your heartbeat was lazy and quiet, not overwhelmingly loud like in other moments of fear like this. It was so silent both in your head and the apartment, except for the rustling somewhere close. Right now, you needed Jongho. You didn’t have anyone else; only he could help, protect, and save you. He was the only person that wanted to hear your cries and see what he could do to stop you from hurting. Cursing yourself for kicking him out of your apartment, you wondered if he’d even agree to help you anymore. Maybe he’d still hug you and find the stalker to beat him up, and maybe, hopefully, he’d know where the quiet, almost inconspicuous, rustling noise in your apartment was coming from. 

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<- Chapter 4.

Chapter 6. ->

Masterlist

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Taglist: @devilzliaison

[reiderwriter]

My Love Is Mine All Mine

Week 2 of my Playlist series 🎧💕

Summary: Spencer Reid always liked broken things, but you didn't think you could be fixed. Maybe all you needed was understanding and companionship.

Warnings: slight angst, case details mentioned - misogyny, kidnapping, etc, but no graphic/ explicit details. Hurt/Comfort.

A/N: Tumblr, please let me post haha I've been good, I promise 🙏 This fic is so late because I've been having some technical issues with tumblr and it has greatly annoyed me, so hopefully if you're seeing this it's been fixed? Who knows... Thank you to everyone who has sent in songs so far for the Playlist series, I'll be cresting the playlist today and posting it for everyone to see and use!

Masterlist || Series Playlist

Falling for Spencer Reid wasn't in your plan for the new year, but looking back, it was probably something that was just bound to happen. 

He'd been the first person to show you any kindness after everything you went through, the first person who hadn't put their own rigid horror at your past before their attempts at sympathy. 

You watched the way people recoiled from you as you told them - bluntly, you had to be blunt - what the man in the cabin had done to you. 

He listened to your words, didn't interrupt, didn't quietly shake in anger, and refuse to meet your eyes like your father did, didn't weep for her baby like your mother did. He took your hand as it shook. He held your gaze. 

It was his job to ask questions, but there weren't many left to answer. 

The only reason you were alive was because his team had tracked the string of bodies to your kidnappers home. You were alive because one of his coworkers had put a bullet through his head, ending your nightmare. 

The very idea of love was repulsive to you as you emerged from that basement in the first days of the next year, and you remembered thinking the snow looked fresh and soft. You remembered wanting to lay in it, to wrap it around yourself like a warm blanket and drift into sleep. The cold ground would be as much comfort as you would allow yourself. 

Because after everything, you knew you didn't deserve love. 

You accepted understanding from him, though. 

When the shock wore off, you were awash in all the misery inflicted upon you. You raged, kicked, screamed, broke things, and made people uncomfortable. Nothing would numb the pain of being trapped inside your head, your head still trapped inside that basement, that cage. 

He came to visit you at the hospital. The nurses had given up on you, were content you were physically healing, and that they had technically done their job but not bothered by your deteriorating mental state. Some days, you swore that they pierced your skin in the wrong places purposefully, not even searching for your vein. 

But then he was there, with a book and a chess board, and he'd asked you if you'd ever played before. 

“No. Chess always seemed too…” You swallowed the bile that drowned your lungs and tried again. “Before, it was boring. An old person game, too many rules. Now… He said we shouldn't do things like this. Said we shouldn't cultivate our minds.” 

It was a confession again, but one that took a weight off your shoulders, and not one that pushed it further down. 

“Would you like to learn?” His tone was so soft and awkward, like a teenage boy asking a girl out on a first date, that you almost giggled. 

“I'll be honest and say you'll never beat me, I've played through most board combinations, including a large proportion of the 10^80 theorised checkmate positions, so if you'd rather do something else, that's fine, or I can leave, too, if… you'd… prefer?” 

You had laughed then, a thing that bubbled up from the pit of your stomach and left your shoulders shaking as you gasped for breath doubled over. 

You'd been in hell for six months, and he'd drawn you out of it for a few moments by rambling about chess. 

“Are you a patient person, Doctor Reid?” 

“I think so.”

“Then set up the board and let's play.” 

He beat you every time, obviously, but you enjoyed his small explanations of the moves, and you did improve slightly. 

More than that, you enjoyed his company. It wasn't that you talked extensively In your hospital room, oscillating between your lowest point and somewhere just a rung above that where the snow was falling and the air was fresh, but that he never looked at you the way others did. 

You were discharged and were sad to lose that small glimmer of normality. He'd come twice a week throughout January, and now you were back in your usual shape. You were being discharged, and so that would end. 

You were surprised that he came to pick you up from the hospital the day you left. 

The parents who had looked everywhere for you for half a year hadn't wanted to, and the close friends from before hadn't spared you a thought since reposting your missing poster on their social media pages. 

But the man you played chess with twice a week, the man who'd carried you out of hell himself was there. 

“Ready to go?” You nodded, dumbstruck, and followed as he grabbed your bag. 

You weren't exactly sure where it was you were going, but you followed the man anyway, only a small part of your brain shouting in protest considering the last time you'd been blindly trusting.

He led you back to an apartment with some bare furnishings but a large window and a warm soft blanket covering the bed. It wasn't his, but yours. 

“Your parents are paying for it. They're taking the city to court due to the circumstances. Apparently, there were numerous phone calls to law enforcement that went unnoticed, but the city is looking to settle, so you don't have to worry about rent for a while, maybe ever again. The WiFi is all set up, hot water is working, and so is the heating. The locks are triple enforced, and I'm right down the hall, so if you need-” 

“What?” 

He blinked at you and suddenly, looking sheepish, as if becoming aware that he'd presumed a friendship between the two of you without consulting you first. 

“I live down the hall.” 

You stared at each other for a few moments as you processed his words. He lived down the hall. He'd driven you to your new home, set everything up for you, and he lived down the hall. 

“You're a good man, Spencer Reid.” You whispered, turning away to not let the moment linger anymore than it already had. 

Chess nights became routine. You'd set up the board and play for an hour or two or until you were sick of losing. 

Gradually, though, the nights got longer. He'd arrive just as you were eating a meal, and you'd invite him to join you, or he'd bring along takeaway and you'd eat quietly together, talking about everything and nothing.  

One day, you'd mentioned a film. A popular one, one you'd loved as a child and still rewatched to this day. 

“I've never seen it, is it good?” He'd said. And in your shock, you jumped up and sent half the chessboard flying. 

“Well, it seems that now our game is over, that we have time to give you an education, Doctor Reid.” 

“I have three PhD's-” 

“And still you haven't seen Clueless?” 

You'd pulled him over to the couch he'd picked out for you, loaded up the movie and then invented a new tradition. 

Chess nights and film nights were separate days of the week. So he could always promise to be around for one of them even if he had to miss the other because of work. 

You didn't ask him about his job anymore. He saved people like you, and you didn't need to be thinking about people like you too much.

What they went through, if they survived physically. If they survived in other ways. 

He always visited you first when he returned, though. There would be a knock on your door at some point in the day or night, and he'd let you know he was home safe. 

Another tradition. You'd opened the door to let him in the first time he'd returned from a case after you moved in, and he'd leaned down and wrapped his arms around you. 

You heard the breath of relief, loud and emotional, and hadn't quite realised it had come from you until a few minutes later. Some part of you had thought he wouldn't come back. 

Now, every time he came home, you ran to the door and quietly comforted each other, reminding the other that no matter what happened, you were both there for each other. 

You weren't sure when traditions and movies turned into love or if it had lingered over you the entire time. You didn't think you could love someone right then, your heart broken into small pieces with the torment you'd suffered. 

But it was stitched back together with pieces of him still lodged inside. He was in the very fabric of your being as you became whole again. 

The truth was that you most likely couldn't find love again because there was no room in your heart for anyone else. And you'd never be able to reschedule chess nights to go on dates anyway. 

You weren't sure if Spencer ever figured out how much of hum you carried around with him, how your eyes followed his lips as he ran through decades of memories to give you the fact he thought would please you the most. You weren't sure if he loved you as much as you did him until you were.

You'd agreed to watch one of his movies for a change, agreeing to stop the streak of 80s brat pack classics to watch a black and white war film from Russia with no subtitles. You'd sat together on that couch under blankets you'd bought together months earlier, and he'd pulled you in closer.

“I want to watch the movie and translate at the same time. You should sit here.” He'd pulled you into his lap, letting your back fall against his chest as his lips fell to your ears, and he began to whisper. 

Sitting there so closely, so intimately, was almost torture. Unconsciously, your head tipped back with his words, displaying your neck and shoulders, silently willing his lips to drift even once. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you did your best not to squirm the entire movie, but with your heart beating out of your chest, it was a hopeless cause. 

“Did you enjoy it?” He whispered as the credits rolled, but you hadn't even noticed the movie had ended. It wasn't until the silence that followed his question stretched out notably that you came back to reality. You couldn't answer, in fact. You gaped for a few short moments, hoping something vague but accurate enough would just pop into your mind. 

As you attempted to negotiate yourself out of distraction, you turned your face to his, but he was closer than you thought.

Your noses touched, and your breaths mingled. His arms still wrapped around your waist, and your blankets still anchored you to one another. 

“I wasn't paying attention to the movie, Spencer. I'm sorry.” The words came out of you so fast, yet so quietly that you were surprised yourself how honest you had chosen to be. 

“Why not?” He asked, eyes having drifted sleepily down to gaze at your lips. 

You didn't answer his question but felt your cheeks flush red. You thought about pulling away, moving back, or at least laughing everything off, but you didn't. You stayed there, still like a deer in headlights. 

“Your voice was too distracting,” You forced some of the tension out of your body and let your head fall against his shoulder again, hoping this moment wouldn't end anytime soon. 

“Distracting?” He sounded concerned and shifted in his seat, lifting you up from your happy place in his arms until you were again face to face. “Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

The look on his face was so concerned and focused that you had to pause for a second to catch your breath. He cared about your comfort so much and paid attention to each word that came out of your mouth. He wanted your happiness more than anything in the world. 

“No. I'm never uncomfortable with you, Spencer.” You were back to whispering now, hands floating up to grab his own, fidgeting by his sides. You bought them up to your face and guided his hands to your cheeks, needing to show him just how comfortable you were with him in actions, not just words. Words could be dishonest. Actions were honest. 

His concern melted away as he began stroking your cheek with his thumb, smiling sweetly at you. 

Though you were both content, you'd never been quite this intimate before. So when his thumb swiped over the corner of your lips, your eyes both caught on each other. You could see him weighing up the outcomes in his head, going back and forth between pulling away and pushing in closer.

Slowly and softly, as though he were trying not to startle you, his head moved closer until his lips were on yours. 

It was a quiet kiss. You wouldn't describe it as fireworks, or butterflies, or anything loud and grand and passionate. It was quiet, and it was right. 

He pulled away seconds later, trying to gauge your reaction, but you followed him away and kissed him again. 

When you finally pulled away, it took you a few seconds to realise you'd climbed back into his lap, unconsciously having moved closer to him. You guiltily looked up, waiting to see any discomfort on his features, but to your surprise, he was busy straightening out your hair. 

“I love you, Spencer,” you whispered as he took care of you. He smiled, looking down at you once again, pulling his arms around you to gently lower both of you down to a laying position on your couch. 

“I love you, too,” he said as you held each other and drifted into contented sleep.

[mommyslittlebird]

A Room of Your Own

Married!WandaNat x Reader

Summary: After getting kicked out of your college dorm, you find yourself living with two older strangers. It was never meant to be anything more than a temporary arrangement born out of necessity, but as the semester continues, something new starts to grow.

CW: Homophobia, Getting Kicked Out, Slow Burn (No sex or romance in this chapter), Age Gap

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I’m back from the dead, though probably not in the way you wanted or expected. I had to take a (not so) little break from one-shots and smut for the time being for some personal reasons. But I’m still finding ways to write and enjoy myself. Some of you probably have already seen this. It’s been up on AO3 for a while now. But I figured I’d post it here too.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing any sort of slow burn, so we'll see if I can resist having them all fall into bed together in the first few chapters. I also don't know how to write an introductory chapter without making it boring as shit, so I at least made it short to spare you all. I promise it gets better.

Chapter 1 of A Room of Your Own

You sat, knees curled to your chest, on the curb in front of what used to be your dorm. It was late, a little after midnight, and absolutely pouring rain.

Three days. You had been in the dorms for three days and you had already been kicked out. You’d expect some pushback, going to a religious college and being queer, but nothing like this. Nothing like getting kicked out of your dorm in the middle of the night because you were making your roommates uncomfortable. You’d tried so hard to get them to like you. They seemed sweet. Not your type of people, sure, but you thought the three of you could get along just fine.

As it turns out, they were actually so repulsed by your presence they couldn’t even wait until classes started to kick you to the curb. Literally.

“Hey!” Somebody shouted from the doorway, holding a large umbrella. You turned to see her approaching and shrunk back in on yourself. You didn’t think you could handle anymore ridicule that evening.

When you didn’t respond or turn to face her, she sat down next to you, sure to cover you with the umbrella as well. She spoke softer now. “Hey. I’m sorry for what happened back there.”

You still didn’t speak, but you looked at her now, partially soaked from where she was sitting next to you on the wet concrete. “I’m Yelena.” She reached her hand out for you to shake.

You shook her hand. “Y/N. Nice to meet you.” You recognized her from your dorm floor, though you’d only ever seen her in passing.

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” she smiled softly. “I wish it were under different circumstances.”

You nodded, turning your gaze back to the raining night.

“Do you have anywhere to go? For tonight I mean. I would offer you to stay in my room, but…” she turned back to the door of the building. You both knew you couldn’t go back in there.

You shook your head. You hadn’t even thought where you would stay tonight. You could always stay in your car. It wouldn’t be the first night you’ve slept in the backseat. Still, the sopping wet clothes would surely make for a morning full of rashes and blistered skin.

Yelena sighed, looking at the ground. She was silent for a moment before she came up with an idea. “Let me call my sister. She and her wife have a massive place not so far from here. They’ll have a bedroom or two to spare.”

Before you could form a rebuttal of any sort, Yelena pushed the umbrella into your hands and dashed back inside. You tucked the umbrella between your leg and the crook of your arm, resting your head on your knees.

It wasn’t very long before Yelena was by your side again. “Okay she’s on her way. She’ll be here in about 10 minutes.”

You didn’t look at her, facing intentionally in the other direction. You felt so horrible. You just wanted to curl up and disappear. And now you were going to be picked and taken to the home of some random classmate’s sister? You try to formulate a response, a reason that you will be fine on your own, but there was nothing. It was either this or the back seat of your 1993 Toyota Corolla. Somehow, you bet Yelena wasn’t going to take that as a reasonable explanation as to why she should call off her sister.

“Are you coming with me?” You asked weakly.

She sighed and put her hand on your back. “I wasn’t planning on it, but I will if you really want me to.”

You finally turned to face her. She didn’t look thrilled at the prospect of leaving. She was probably a freshman. It was her first couple days in the dorm too and everything was so new and exciting. The last thing she wanted to do was go back home with her sister.

“No it’s okay,” you responded. The last thing you wanted was to inconvenience someone else tonight, and it’s not like a freshman you hardly knew was going to bring you much solace anyway.

She patted your back. “They’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

Before too much longer, Yelena stood up at the sight of headlights. She waved her arms in an “over here” motion. The car approached Yelena, stopping hard in front of the curb you were sitting on. The tires splashed you in rainwater and mud. Yelena winched, walking back towards you to usher you into the car.

She led you to the passenger door, popping it open and peeking her head in. “This is your girl,” she said, pointing back towards your soaked, mud covered figure. She motioned for you to sit.

You hesitated. The car looked nicer than any you’d ever been in before. The idea of ruining the nice leather seats made you want to shrink further into your ball of shame.

The woman in the driver's seat noticed your hesitation, but didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned with her seat. “Come on in,” she ushered. “Get out of that rain.”

You handed the umbrella back to Yelena, reluctantly taking a seat in the car. Yelena peaked her head back in to say “take care of her,” before closing the door and scurrying back into the dorms.

The woman looked at you, reaching up to pop on the overhead light. The sight of her in the light nearly took your breath away. She looked oddly familiar. Maybe you’d seen her around town. You sharply inhaled as the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen leaned over the console towards you. She frowned. “Oh you poor thing!” She reached out to wipe off your face. You cringed when you saw the mud smear across the sleeve of her jacket. “Let’s go home and get you cleaned up.”

You nodded and she turned the light off before pulling out of the parking lot. You fought the urge to curl up in her passenger seat, fearing further ruining her seats with the dirty bottoms of your shoes. When you didn’t speak, she offered up an introduction of her own. “My name is Natasha. I don’t know what Yelena’s told you, but I’m her sister. My wife and I have a place not so far from here.”

“I’m Y/N” you managed.

“A friend of Yelena’s?” She asked.

You chuckled a little. “I suppose you could say that. We met about 20 minutes ago.”

Natasha chuckled. “Of course. Leave it to Yelena to seek you out after such an injustice.”

You bit the inside of your lip. You wished you had heard the phone conversation so you could gauge just how much she knew.

It was as if Natasha could read your mind when she started next with the details of the phone call. “Yelena told me you got kicked out of the dorm by the other girls. They were uncomfortable because you were gay? I never expected to hear anything like that happening in 2024, but I guess I stand corrected.”

Well, that was one way of telling the story. At least Yelena had left out the peeping Tom allegations that got you chased off the floor by everyone who had to share a bathroom with you. They weren’t true, of course, but the fact that you’d made people so uncomfortable they were willing to name you a pervert without second thought made your skin crawl.

After a short, largely silent car ride, Natasha pulled the car into a garage. You hadn’t gotten a good look at the house, both because of the dark and getting lost in your own thoughts, but even by the state of the garage you could tell it was nice.

Natasha got out of the car, unlocking the door and leading you into the kitchen. You took your shoes off by the door, then decided to take your socks off too to avoid tracking muddy water through the house. The woman took your hand and guided you to the stairwell, then to a bathroom. She turned on the lights and opened up a cabinet, pulling out fresh towels and washcloths.

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes and sheets. The bedroom is through here.” She opened a door that revealed a sizable bedroom connected to the bathroom. You could hardly believe this wasn’t the master suite she’d led you too.

She turned to face you, exhaling as she once again took in your disheveled state. She picked some errant pebbles from your tangled hair and wiped it out of your face. “Now,” she started, “do you need anything else before I let you get cleaned up and off to bed?”

You shook your head. “No. You’ve done enough already. Thank you, Miss Natasha, for letting me stay here. It means a lot. Truly.”

“Of course.” She smiled. You didn’t notice the blush that crept onto her face at the formality. She swiped away the hair that had fallen in front of your eyes again. “We wouldn’t want a sweet girl like you sleeping out in the rain.” She booped the tip of your nose. “Now promise you’ll wake me or Wanda up if you need anything at all. We’re just in the room across the hall. Can’t miss it, it’s the only door on that side.”

You nodded slowly. There was no way in hell you were going to wake her or Wanda, who you assumed was her wife, for any reason. But you nodded anyway.

She smiled and rubbed your chin. “Good girl. Now go get cleaned up and try to get some rest.”

As she set off to her room, you hoped the mud had covered how pink your cheeks had gotten. You headed to the shower, sliding open the glass door and turning on the water. You decided to hop in with your clothes at first, hoping to get enough of the mud off that you could wear them again tomorrow. Then you wrang the clothes out and threw them over the door to dry. You took your time in the shower, letting the hot water warm you up from the cold rain. By the time you were finally clean, you grabbed the fresh towel Natasha had left for you.

Your clothes were, obviously, still soaked save for your underwear. You were thankful for the little time it had taken the thin silky material to dry. You put them back on and wrapped yourself in a towel before entering into the bedroom.

There was a maroon hoodie at the end of the bed. It had been there since Natasha first showed you the room, so it clearly wasn’t laid out for you. However, in lieu of other clothes, you decided the owner probably wouldn’t mind if you borrowed it for the night. You slipped the soft fabric over your head. It was much too big for you, going down to almost your mid thighs while the sleeves dangled over your hands. But it was, quite possibly, the softest material that you’d ever felt. It felt simultaneously brand new and freshly washed.

You crawled up into the queen sized bed, slipping under the covers. You held the fabric of the hoodie close to your face. It smelled nothing like the musky bergamot of Natasha, which had been equally as entrancing in its own way. This was distinctly different. It smelled soft and comforting like lying in a meadow on a spring day. The comforting smell and warmth, along with your own exhaustion, quickly had you asleep.